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DOROTHY  HANCOCK’S  RECEPTION, 


YOUNG  FOLKS’ 


History  of  Boston. 


BY 


HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH, 

AUTHOR  OF  “ ZIGZAG  JOURNEYS  IN  EUROPE,”  “ ZIGZAG  JOURNEYS  IN 
CLASSIC  LANDS,”  “ZIGZAG  JOURNEYS  IN  THE  ORIENT,” 
“YOUNG  folks’  HISTORY  OF  AMERICA,”  ETC. 


FULLY  ILLUSTRATED. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED  BY  ESTES  AND  LAURIAT, 

301-305  Washington  Street. 

1883. 


Copyright^  1881, 

By  Estes  and  Lauriat. 


University  Press: 

John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


S'1  /'  v;  - ■ 

■ 0 


PREFACE. 


v5 


4 

^3 


4' 


Some  ten  years  ago  the  writer  of  this  volume  came  to 
Boston,  a stranger,  for  the  purpose  of  reading  in  the  Public 
Library  and  obtaining  work  as  a journalist.  Becoming 
deeply  interested  in  works  of  local  history,  especially  in 
those  of  Drake,  and  being  unacquainted  with  society,  he 
resolved  to  visit  all  the  old  historic  places  in  and  about 
Boston,  in  hours  needed  for  exercise,  and  to  study  their 
associations. 

About  a year  ago  the  publishers  asked  him  to  prepare 
a young  people’s  history  of  Boston,  and  to  seek  to  make 
it  popular  and  entertaining,  after  the  methods  of  the  Zig- 
zag” books.  It  was  a pleasure  to  attempt  this  work,  as 
it  revived  the  memories  of  the  solitary  walks  ten  years  ago, 
and  brought  into  use  the  material  then  collected. 

This  book  does  not  seek  to  follow  the  common  historic 
methods,  but  to  be  as  entertaining  as  possible  while  impart- 
ing information.  The  elaborate  works  of  Drake,  Shurtleff, 
Quincy,  and  the  noble  Memorial  History”  fully  cover 
the  subject  for  the  scholar  and  the  adult  reader  of  means 
and  leisure,  but  hardly  meet  the  wants  of  popular  reading 


VI 


Preface, 


and  the  young.  Hence  stories,  incidents,  poems,  and  pic- 
tures have  been  freely  used.  We  hope  that  the  reading  of 
this  volume  may  at  least  create  an  interest  for  the  study 
of  the  larger  works  we  have  named,  and  tend  to  develop 
that  honest  pride  in  our  local  history  which  is  essential  to 
the  best  citizenship. 


28  Worcester  Street, 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Wherein  is  given  some  Account  of  St.  Botolph  15 

II.  Wherein  is  given  some  Account  of  St.  Bo- 

tolph’s  Church  in  Lincolnshire 31 

III.  Wherein  is  given  an  Account  of  William  Black- 

stone,  A Recluse,  who  was  the  First  Settler 
OF  Boston 39 

IV.  Wherein  is  contained  the  Story  of  Lady  Ar- 

BELLA  Johnson 47 

V.  Wherein  are  related  some  Incidents  of  the 

Life  of  Governor  John  Winthrop,  the 
Founder  of  Boston 57 

VI.  Wherein  is  given  some  Account  of  Sir  Henry 

Vane,  Anne  Hutchinson,  and  those  Religious 
Persecutions  out  of  which  grew  "Liberty  of 

Conscience  and  Opinion 85 

VH.  Wherein  are  related  some  Stories  of  a Ner- 
vous Disease  CALLED  Witchcraft 109 

VHI.  Wherein  is  shown  how  the  Colony  became  a 

Province 137 

IX.  Wherein  are  told  some  Stories  of  Old  Colony 

Times 151 

X.  Wherein  is  given  some  Account  of  the  Times 

OF  THE  Eleven  Royal  Governors  and  of  the 
Old  Province  House  169 


viii  Contents. 

CHAPTER  page 

XI.  The  Times  of  the  Eleven  Royal  Governors 

AND  OF  THE  OlD  PROVINCE  HoUSE,  CONTINUED  . 1 89 

XII.  The  Eve  of  Revolution 205 

XIII.  Bunker  Hill 243 

XIV.  The  Siege  of  Boston 253 

XV.  The  Story  of  Hollis  Street  Meeting-House 

AND  Curious  Old  Mather  Byles,  the  Roy- 
alist   283 

XVI.  Freedom  and  Prosperity 293 

XVII.  The  Anti  slavery  Struggle 309 

XVIII.  The  Boston  of  To-day 323 

XIX.  The  Pleasure  Resorts  and  the  Beautiful  Sub- 
urbs OF  Boston 349 

XX.  The  Old  Boston  Schools 369 

XXL  The  Associations  of  Boston  Poetry 389 

XXII.  Associations  of  Whittier’s  Poetry 421 

XXIII.  The  Concord  Authors  and  the  Associations 

OF  THEIR  Works 439 

XXIV.  Mount  Auburn 455 

Index 475 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Dorothy  Hancock’s  Reception Frontispiece 

Monks  at  Study i6 

Lincoln  Cathedral 17 

Preaching  the  Gospel  to  the  Saxons 21 

Ruins  of  an  Ancient  Abbey 25 

A Saxon  Priest  destroying  an  Idol 27 

St.  Botolph’s  Church 33 

Charles  1 35 

Cotton  Memorial  Chapel 36 

William  Blackstone’s  House 39 

Trimountain 40 

On  the  Banks  of  the  Charles 41 

Sailing  from  England 48 

Sir  Richard  Saltonstall 49 

The  First  King’s  Chapel 51 

Winthrop’s  Fleet  in  Boston  Harbor 53 

John  Winthrop 39 

Winthrop  and  Dudley 63 

First  Meeting-House 65 

Winthrop  fording  a Stream 67 

Revels  at  Merry-Mount 68 

Miles  Standish  discovers  the  Revellers  at  Merry-Mount  ...  69 

Endicott  cutting  down  Morton’s  May-pole 73 

A Lost  Settler  found 77 

Indians  returning  a Lost  Child 80 

The  Harbor  of  Boston 81 

Henry  Vane 86 

Burial  of  the  King 88 

Execution  of  Charles  1 89 


X List  of  Illustrations, 

PAGE 

Oliver  Cromwell 91 

Roger  Williams  appealing  to  the  Indians . 93 

Cutting  out  the  Red  Cross 95 

The  Stocks 96 

John  Endicott 97 

The  Pillory 99 

Whipping  Quakers  at  the  Cart’s  Tail  in  Boston loi 

Old  Elm  and  Quakers’  Graves 105 

Witches 109 

Witchcraft  at  Salem  Village 113 

Cotton  Mather 117 

Martha  Corey  and  her  Persecutors 121 

The  Old  Elm 125 

A False  Alarm 129 

Increase  Mather 133 

Governor  Leverett 138 

The  Old  Feather  Store ' . . . . 139 

Charles  II 141 

Sir  Edmund  Andros 143 

Governor  Andros  a Prisoner  147 

Nix’s  Mate 152 

Massacre  at  Bloody  Brook 153 

Charles  chasing  the  Moth 157 

Old-time  Courtesies 163 

Elder  Brewster’s  Chair 166 

Queen  Anne 17 1 

The  Province  House 175 

Franklin 178 

King’s  Chapel,  Tremont  Street 179 

George  1 183 

Franklin’s  Birthplace 185 

Faneuil  Hall 191 

The  Old  South  Church 193 

Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes 195 

The  Frankland  House  198 

The  Liberty  Tree 200 

Map  of  New  England  about  1700 201 

Bostonians  reading  the  Stamp  Act 207 

The  Hancock  House 210 

Adams  opposing  the  Stamp  Act  from  the  Old  State  House  . . 21 1 


List  of  Illustrations. 


XI 


PAGE 

Destruction  of  the  Tea 217 

Provincials  rallying  at  Concord 221 

Conflict  at  the  North  Bridge 223 

Section  of  Bonner^s  Map,  1722 227 

John  Hancock 231 

Christ  Church 235 

From  Bonner’s  Map,  1722 237 

Plan  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill 245 

The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill 249 

The  Washington  Elm 254 

View  from  Beacon  Hill,  Boston 255 

The  Holmes  House 258 

Plan  of  the  Investment  of  Boston 259 

Pine-Tree  Flag 262 

Washington’s  Treasure-chest 263 

George  III 269 

Plan  of  the  Town  of  Boston,  1775 273 

Boston  with  its  Environs,  1775-76 277 

The  Old  Hollis  Street  Church 283 

From  Bonner’s  Map,  1722 285 

Mather  Byles 288 

Lafayette 297 

Daniel  Webster 300 

Washington  Irving 304 

Mr.  Garrison  in  the  Hands  of  the  Mob 31 1 

Theodore  Parker .314 

First  Subscriptions  for  Soldiers’  Families 315 

Fort  Sumter 317 

Massachusetts  Sixth  in  Baltimore 318 

State  House 325 

Corner  of  Washington  and  Milk  Streets,  before  the  Great  Fire  . 328 

“ Summer  Street  a Wall  of  Flame  ’“ 329 

“ The  Old  South  stands  ” 333 

Henry  Wilson 335 

Soldiers  and  Sailors’  Monument 336 

Map  of  Boston  m 1838 337 

Skeleton  of  Mammoth 343 

Statue  of  Edward  Everett 35^ 

Northmen  on  an  Expedition 357 

The  PVench  King  troubled  at  the  Approach  of  the  Northmen  . 363 


xii  List  of  Illustrations, 

PAGE 

The  Old  Pedagogue  . 370 

Ear  Pincers • 37i 

John  Lovell 377 

Charles  K.  Dillaway 379 

First  Latin  School,  School  Lane 380 

The  English  High  and  Latin  School  381 

Benjamin  Franklin 391 

Charles  Sprague 392 

The  ‘‘  Old  Brick  ’’  Church . 395 

“ Elmwood,'’  the  Home  of  Lowell 407 

James  Russell  Lowell 409 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 41 1 

John  G.  Whittier 421 

The  Carwitham  View  of  Boston,  about  1730  425 

An  Old-time  Husking  Frolic 433 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 439 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne 442 

The  Old  Manse 443 

Thoreau’s  Hut 444 

Margaret  Fuller  (Countess  Ossoli) 449 

Ossoli  Memorial 456 

Entrance  to  Mt.  Auburn  Cemetery  457 

Spurzheim  Monument 459 

Bronze  Statue  of  Dr.  Nathaniel  Bowditch 460 

The  Chapel 461 

The  Story  Statue 462 

Charles  Sumner’s  Sarcophagus 465 

Louis  Agassiz 467 

The  Agassiz  Boulder 468 

riie  Tower 470 

Jared  Sparks 47 ^ 


Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood.” 

Tennyson 


I 


i ■ 


■1^ 


YOUNG  FOLKS’ 


HISTORY  OF  BOSTON. 

CHAPTER  I. 

WHEREIN  IS  GIVEN  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  ST.  BOTOLPH. 

If  you  will  look  at  the  map  of  England,  you  will  see  on 
the  right  hand  the  great  maritime  county  of  Lincolnshire. 
Its  shores  are  washed  by  the  North  Sea.  The  coast  from 
the  river  Humber  to  the  Wash  is  low,  and  embankments  are 
built  as  a protection  against  the  stormy  tides. 

It  is  a district  of  wonderful  fertility,  bountiful  gardens, 
luxuriant  meadows,  and  rich  grazing-lands,  whereon  are  seen 
the  finest  horses  and  cattle  of  England.  The  people  here 
from  the  time  of  the  Norman  Conquest  have  been  remarkable 
for  their  intelligence  and  heroic  and  independent  spirit. 
The  Wesleys  lived  here,  and  most  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Massachusetts  Bay  Colony  came  from  this  place. 

The  capitol  of  the  county  is  Lincoln,  famous  for  its  beau- 
tiful cathedral,  which  has  three  great  towers,  one  of  which  is 
three  hundred  feet  high.  The  celebrated  old  bell,  ‘‘Tom 
of  Lincoln,”  once  rang  sweetly  from  one  of  the  towers. 

The  coast  is  very  dangerous,  and  in  early  times  a good 
abbot  who  befriended  people  in  peril  became  a patron  saint. 


1 6 Yoimg  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

This  benefactor  was  St.  Botolph.  He  was  the  good 
abbot  of  Ikanho/  and  became  very  favorably  known  for 
his  pious  and  benevolent  deeds  about  the  year  655. 

The  name  Botolph  or  Botulph  is  made  up  of  two  Saxon 
words,  boat  and  ulph,  meaning  boat  help,  an  inspiring  sound 


MONKS  AT  STUDY. 


to  storm-tossed  mariners.  One  of  the  churches  in  Alders- 
gate,  London,  was  dedicated  to  this  saint,  also  a church  at 
Colchester,  the  ruins  of  which  are  now  seen. 

After  a life  of  beneficence  in  the  rude  times  when  Chris- 
tianity was  being  established  in  England,  the  holy  man  ’’ 


1 Ancient  name  of  Boston. 


iiiiaimiiiii;! 


LINCOLN  CATHEDRAL. 


655-  Si.  Botolph.  19 

died,  and  his  remains  were  entombed  in  St.  Edmund’s 
Monastery,  Bury. 

The  abbot  was  so  good  in  his  life  that  it  was  supposed 
that  his  remains  would  be  of  equally  good  influence  after  he 
was  entombed. 

^We  have  a curious  story  to  tell  you  about  this  founder  of 
Old  Boston,  whose  piety  and  charity  gave  the  name  to  our 
city. 

There  were  dry  seasons  at  Bury.  The  wells  became  low, 
the  lowing  of  cattle  for  water  was  heard  in  the  pastures,  the 
gardens  withered,  the  fields  turned  brown.  At  these  dry 
seasons  the  people  called  upon  the  monks  to  do  something 
to  bring  rain. 

What  could  the  poor  monks  do  ? 

The  monks  of  St.  Edmund’s  Monastery  remembered  the 
sanctity  of  St.  Botolph.  They  resolved  to  take  his  coffin 
from  the  tomb  and  carry  it  about  the  streets  in  a procession, 
and  see  if  that  would  not  bring  rain. 

The  pious  experiment  was  entirely  successful : rain  came, 
and  so  the  saint  was  even  more  highly  esteemed  than  before 
his  decease,  and  whenever  it  began  to  be  a little  dry  the 
monks  of  Bury  in  early  times  would  carry  about  the  streets, 
in  a long,  dark  procession,  the  coffin  of  good  St.  Botolph. 

There  must  have  been  occasions  when -the  clouds  did  not 
promptly  respond  to  the  attractions  of  the  good  saint’s  bones, 
and  possibly  in  some  such  way  the  relics  lost  credit.  We 
cannot  tell.  St.  Botolph  has  been  allowed  to  rest  in  peace 
for  a thousand  years.  Whatever  we  may  think  now  of  the 
influence  of  the  ceremony  in  bringing  rain,  we  cannot  but 
respect  the  faith  in  God  and  in  the  power  of  a pious  and 
benevolent  character  that  underlay  the  pleasant  fancy,  for  it 
was  this  confidence  that  made  men  morally  strong  in  Saxon 
times,  and  helped  our  ancestors  to  be  what  they  were  in  a 
more  enlightened  age. 


20  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

^^The  History  and  Antiquities  of  Boston”  (England),  by 
Pishey  Thompson,  published  in  1856,  a copy  of  which  may 
be  found  in  Harvard  College  Library,  contains  long  extracts 
from  the  Chronicles  of  John  of  Tynemouth,  in  which  are 
given  many  beautiful  incidents  of  the  life  of  St.  Botolph. 
John  of  Tynemouth  was  rector  of  St.  Botolph’s  Church, 
Boston,  in  1518. 

Mr.  Thompson,  in  his  History  of  Boston,  thus  speaks  of 
the  saint : — 

St.  Botulph  and  his  brother,  St.  Adulph,  flourished  about 
the  middle  of  the  seventh  century.  They  were  of  noble 
family,  and  were  sent  very  young  into  Belgic  France,  where, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  Bede,  our  ancestors  in  those 
days  usually  sent  their  children  to  be  educated.  The  broth- 
ers Botulph  and  Adulph,  having  been  initiated  in  the  disci- 
pline and  austerity  of  a monastic  life,  took  the  religious  habit, 
and  became  famous  for  their  learning,  zeal,  and  spiritual 
labors.  The  fame  of  St.  Adulph  having  reached  the  French 
king,  he  was  by  that  monarch  exalted  to  the  government  of 
the  church  of  Maestricht  in  Belgium,  the  duties  of  which 
station  he  filled  with  such  ability  as  to  attract  the  most 
unqualified  eulogies  of  the  writers  of  his  time.” 

The  Chronicles  of  John  of  Tynemouth  thus  continue  the 
story  : — 

But  the  blessed  father  Botulph  was  disposed  to  return  to 
Britain.  Now  there  were  in  the  same  monastery  in  which  he 
was  staying  two  sisters  of  Ethelmund,  King  of  the  East 
Angles  (having  been  sent  thither  for  the  sake  of  the  monastic 
discipline),  who,  understanding  that  the  blessed  man  was 
wishing  to  return  to  his  own  country,  impose  upon  him  cer- 
tain commands  to  be  carried  to  the  king,  their  brother. 
Having  passed  over  the  sea,  he  is  honorably  entertained  by 
the  king,  who,  having  heard  the  pious  petitions  of  bis  own 
sisters  that  he  should  grant  Botulph  a piece  of  ground  to 


PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL  TO  THE  SAXONS. 


68o. 


S^.  BotolpJi. 


23 


build  a monastery  for  the  love  of  the  divine  reward,  he  gave 
his  kind  consent.  . . . The  venerable  father  chose  a certain 
uncultivated  place,  deserted  by  man,  called  Ykanho.” 

The  story  is  a charming  one,  and  goes  on  with  an  inno- 
cence truly  Herodotean  : — 

Now  that  region  was  as  much  forsaken  by  man  as  it  was 
possessed  by  demons,  whose  fantastic  illusion  by  the  coming 
of  the  holy  man  was  to  be  immediately  put  to  flight,  and  the 
pious  conversation  of  the  faithful  substituted  in  its  place,  so 
that  where  up  to  that  time  the  deceit  of  the  devil  had 
abounded,  the  grace  of  our  beneficent  founder  should  more 
abound.  Upon  the  entry,  therefore,  of  the  blessed  Botulph, 
the  blackest  smoke  arises,  and  the  enemy,  knowing  that  his 
own  flight  was  at  hand,  cries  out,  with  horrid  clamor,  saying  : 
^ This  place  which  we  have  inhabited  for  a long  time  we 
thought  to  inhabit  for  ever.  Why,  O Botulph,  most  cruel 
stranger,  dost  thou  try  to  drive  us  from  these  seats?  In 
nothing  have  we  offended  you,  in  nothing  have  we  disturbed 
your  right,  what  do  you  seek  in  our  expulsion?  What  do 
you  wish  to  establish  in  this  region  of  ours?  After  being 
driven  out  of  every  corner  in  the  world,  do  you  expel  us 
wretched  beings  even  out  of  this  solitude  ? ’ ” 

But  the  blessed  St.  Botolph  was  not  to  be  entreated  by 
evil  spirits.  He  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  addressed 
them  heroically,  and  put  them  all  to  flight,  — a scene  worthy 
of  a painter. 

The  Chronicles  give  a series  of  charming  incidents  illustrat- 
ing the  humility  of  the  saint,  his  beautiful  sympathies,  and 
harmony  of  character. 

Say  the  Chronicles,  in  regard  to  the  time  of  his  decease  : — 
At  last,  when  God  called,  he  was  delivered  from  the 
prison  of  the  body  on  the  15th  of  the  kalends  of  June, 
A.  D.  680,  and  is  buried  in  the  same  monastery  which  he  had 
erected.” 


24 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


Of  the  stories  of  miracles  performed  at  his  tomb,  here  is  a 
beautiful  one  from  the  Chronicles,  which,  if  it  were  true, 
would  indicate  that  saints  have  a care  for  their  bodies  after 
death  : — 

'‘In  the  time  of  Edgar  (959-975),  St.  Ethelwold,  the 
repairer  of  monasteries,  obtained  leave  of  the  king  to  trans- 
fer the  bodies  of  saints  from  the  places  and  monasteries 
destroyed  by  the  pagans,  to  the  monasteries  erected  in  his 
own  time. 

" Now  the  Monastery  of  Ykanho  (Ikanhoe-Boston)  had 
been  left  destitute  as  an  abode  of  monks,  and  destroyed  by 
the  persecutors  of  St.  Edmund,  the  king,  but  it  was  by  no 
means  deserted  by  the  devotion  of  the  faithful.  The  place 
known  to  the  inhabitants  was  held  in  great  reverence,  but  it 
was  saved  in  the  divine  offices  of  a single  priest. 

" Now  when  a certain  monk,  with  many  others  at  the 
command  of  St.  Ethelwold,  .had  come  to  the  tomb  of  St. 
Botulph,  and  had  collected  his  precious  bones  and  wrapped 
them  in  fine  linen,  and,  having  raised  them  on  their  shoulders, 
were  endeavoring  to  carry  them  away,  they  are  fixed  with  so 
great  a weight  that  by  no  effort  can  they  move  a step. 

" The  cloisters  of  the  altar  resound  with  a loud  noise,  as  if 
to  intimate  the  teaching  of  God’s  grace. 

" The  monk  aforesaid  recollects  of  the  things  he  has 
heard,  that  the  blessed  Adulph,  the  bishop,  was  buried  with 
his  brother. 

" They  raised  this  brother’s  body  out  of  the  earth ; they 
then  were  relieved  of  the  weight,  and  carried  both  bodies 
with  them  to  St.  Ethelwold,  rejoicing. 

" He  assigned  the  head  of  St.  Botulph  to  the  monastery  of 
Ely,  but  reserved  for  himself  and  his  cabinet  of  royal  relics  a 
portion  of  the  rest  of  his  body ; and  what  was  left  he  con- 
ceded to  the  Church  of  Thorney,  together  with  the  body  of 
the  blessed  Adulph.” 


RUINS  OF  AN  ANCIENT  ABBEY. 


St-  Botolph. 


27 


680. 

The  accounts  of  St.  Botolph  (or  Botulph)  are  as  beautiful 
as  fairy  stories,  and  would  be  a pleasing  subject  for  a more 
extended  article  than  we  give  here.  My  readers,  I am  sure, 
will  be  pleased  to  know  that  Boston  received  its  name  from 
one  so  greatly  beloved  and  esteemed. 


116RARY 
Of  THF 

« >LUNOIS 


“ Though  ages  long  have  passed 
Since  our  fathers  left  their  home, 
Their  pilot  in  the  blast, 

O’er  untravelled  seas  to  roam,  — 

Yet  lives  the  blood  of  England  in  our  veins  1 
And  shall  we  not  proclaim 
That  blood  of  honest  fame. 

Which  no  tyranny  can  tame 

By  its  chains  ? 

While  the  language,  free  and  bold. 
Which  the  bard  of  Avon  sung. 

In  which  our  Milton  told 
How  the  vault  of  heaven  rung. 

When  Satan,  blasted,  fell  with  all  his  host ; 
While  this,  with  reverence  meet, 

Ten  thousand  echoes  greet, 

From  rock  to  rock  repeat 

Round  our  coast ; 

“ While  the  manners,  while  the  arts, 
That  mould  a nation’s  soul. 

Still  cling  around  our  hearts. 

Between  let  ocean  roll, 

Our  joint  communion  breaking  with  the  sun  ; 
Yet,  still,  from  either  beach. 

The  voice  of  blood  shall  reach. 

More  audible  than  speech,  . 

‘ We  are  One  ! ’ ” 


Washington  Allston. 


CHAPTER  II. 


WHEREIN  IS  GIVEN  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  ST.  BO- 
TOLPH’S  CHURCH,  IN  LINCOLNSHIRE. 

The  city  of  Boston  was  founded  by  gentlemen ; not  sons 
of  a decayed  aristocracy ; not  persons  using  wealth  to  gain 
wealth ; not  adventurers  in  search  of  gold ; not  romantic 
dreamers  in  quest  of  a fountain  that  would  restore  to  them 
their  lost  youth.  It  was  indeed  founded  by  gentlemen  of 
wealth,  but  they  were  men  who  turned  their  backs  on  luxury 
for  moral  principle  and  peace  of  soul. 

The  American  traveller  who  reaches  Liverpool  in  an  Atlan- 
tic steamer  may  take  the  Manchester,  Lincoln,  and  Sheffield 
Railway,  and  in  a few  hours  find  himself  in  the  town  of 
Boston,  from  which  the  founders  of  our  Boston  came. 

The  borough  resembles  Holland  in  many  respects.  Here 
red-tiled  roofs,  like  those  of  Rotterdam,  are  seen  ; and  quaint 
gables  and  small  windows.  Dutch-looking  vessels  lie  in  the 
harbor.  It  contains  about  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants.  St. 
Botolph’s  Church  is  its  principal  architectural  ornament. 
Our  Boston  contains  nearly  four  hundred  thousand  inhabi- 
tants and  two  hundred  churches.  Old  Boston  is  proud  of  her 
daughter,  and  the  traders  love  to  speak  of  her  on  market 
days.  She  has  a right  to  be  proud,  for  the  daughter  grew 
strong  by  following  the  instructions  of  a wise  and  worthy 
mother. 


32  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

The  ancient  name  of  Old  Boston  was  Ikanho,  or  Icanhoe. 
St.  Botolph  was  abbot  of  Ikanho.  America  has  named  her 
towns  and  public  buildings  for  nearly  all  the  interesting  places 
in  the  Old  World  mentioned  in  history,  song,  and  fable,  but 
Ikanho  does  not  appear  among  them. 

The  town  is  situated  on  the  river  Wytham.  The  church 
was  begun  in  1309.  Its  tower,  which  can  be  seen  forty 
miles  at  sea,  is  three  hundred  feet  high. 

This  tower  was  anciently  used  as  a lighthouse.  For 
hundreds  of  years  the  sailors  on  the  North  Sea  saw  it 
blazing  over  the  coast,  and  blessed  the  memory  of  St.  Bo- 
tolph. 

The  old  church,  as  tested  by  the  funeral  services  of  the 
Princess  Charlotte,  would  hold  more  people  than  any  single 
church  in  New  Boston.  Five  thousand  people  assembled 
there  on  the  occasion  of  the  memorial  service  for  the  prin- 
cess. 

Here  John  Cotton,  vicar  of  Boston,  preached  twenty 
years.  Here  Isaac  Johnson  and  Lady  Arbella  listened  to 
his  fervid  preaching. 

John  Cotton  was  born  in  the  town  of  Derby,  1585.  His 
father  was  a lawyer.  He  was  graduated  at  Trinity  College. 
He  was  descended  from  noble  families,  and  received  the 
most  thorough  training  for  whatever  duty  he  should  be  called 
to  fulfil. 

He  was  one  of  the  independent  spirits  who  refused  to 
conform  to  the  ritual  imposed  upon  the  Church  by  Arch- 
bishop Laud.  He  regarded  the  ritual  as  superstition,  and 
he  appealed  to  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  and  Earl  of  Dorset  to 
protect  him  from  persecution.  He  pleaded  his  unselfish  and 
blameless  life.  The  Earl  of  Dorset  told  him  that  if  his 
crime  had  been  drunkenness  or  uncleanness  or  any  lesser 
fault,”  he  could  be  pardoned ; but  non-conformity  could  not 
be  overlooked.  He  advised  him  to  fly.  Charles  I.  was  on 


ST.  botolph’s  church. 


Charles  L 


35 


the  throne  at  this  time.  Archbishop  Laud  was  filling  the 
English  gaols  with  Non-conformists.  Cotton  would  not  dis- 
crown his  manhood  by  yielding  to  what  he  believed  to  be 


CHARLES  I. 


wrong ; he  therefore  fled  from  Old  Boston  to  found  a new 
church  in  the  wilderness.” 

The  people  used  to  say,  The  old  lantern  in  St.  Botolph^s 
Church  went  out  for  ever  when  Cotton  left  the  town.” 


36  " Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


But  the  lamp  of  religious  freedom  that  was  kindled  in  St. 
Botolph’s  shines  to-day  in  thousands  of  sanctuaries  whose 
influence  fills  the  Western  world  ! 


COTTON  MEMORIAL  CHAPEL. 


Some  years  ago  Edward  Everett  and  a number  of  liberal 
American  people  restored  a chapel  of  St.  Botolph’s  Church, 
at  a cost  of  about  three  thousand  dollars,  and  placed  in  it  a 
tablet,  with  an  inscription  in  Latin  by  Mr.  Everett,  to  the 
memory  of  John  Cotton. 


“Our  ancestors  have  left  no  Corinthian  temples  on  our  hills,  no  Gothic 
cathedrals  on  our  plains,  no  proud  pyramid,  no  storied  obelisk,  in  our  cities. 
But  mind  is  there.  Sagacious  enterprise  is  there.  An  active,  vigorous,  intelli- 
gent, moral  population  throng  oijr  cities,  and  predominate  in  our  fields ; men, 
patient  of  labor,  submissive  to  law,  respectful  to  authority,  regardful  of  right, 
faithful  to  liberty.  These  are  the  monuments  of  our  ancestors.  They  stand 
immutable  and  immortal,  in  the  social,  moral,  and  intellectual  condition  of  their 
descendants.  They  exist  in  the  spirit  which  their  precepts  instilled,  and  their 
example  implanted.”  — President  Quincy. 


'tf , 


CHAPTER  III 


WHEREIN  IS  GIVEN  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  WILLIAM 
BLACKSTONE,  A RECLUSE,  WHO  WAS  THE  FIRST 
SETTLER  OF  BOSTON. 


This  picture  does  not 
bear  much  resemblance 
to  the  houses  on  Bea- 
con Street,  to  the  Hotels 
Brunswick  or  Vendome. 

It  looks  small  indeed  as 
compared  with  the  new 
Post  Office  or  City  Hall, 
yet  it  was  the  first  house 
ever  built  in  Boston. 

The  house  stood  on 
the  west  side  of  Beacon 
Hill,  and  a lovely  situa- 

^ ^ WILLIAM  BLACKSTONE’S  HOUSE. 

tion  it  must  have  been* 

in  summer  time,  looking  out  upon  the  forests  on  the  river 
Charles,  the  harbor,  and  the  pine-shadowed  hills  of  the 
Mystic.  There  were  very  pure  springs  of  water  here,  one 
near  the  place  where  is  now  Louisburg  Square,  another  where 
is  now  Spring  Lane. 

Its  sole  inhabitant  was  William  Blackstone.  He  was  a 
hermit,  or  at  least  he  loved  solitude  better  than  society.  He 
was  a royalist,  a firm  Episcopalian,  and  believed,  as  did  King 


40 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


Charles  and  Archbishop  Laud,  in  the  divine  right  of  kings  to 
rule,  without  any  parliaments  to  vex  them  or  share  the 
responsibility.  He  did  not  like  the  Puritans,  their  principles, 
or  ways,  but  he  was  still  a very  kind-hearted  and  benevolent 
man,  as  you  shall  presently  be  told. 

He  was  a graduate  of  Emanuel  College,  Cambridge. 
Nearly  all  of  the  first  settlers  of  Boston  had  received  a col- 
legiate education.  He  began  life  as  an  Episcopal  clergyman. 
He  came  to  America  soon  after  the  Pilgrims,  and  settled  at 
Shawmut,  as  Boston  was  then  called,  in  1623. ' Here  he  lived 
in  seclusion,  having  only  Indians  for  neighbors,  for  nearly 
seven  years.  He  was  at  this  period  between  thirty  and  forty 

years  of  age. 

A part  of  the  emi- 
grants who  came  to 
Salem  formed  a settle- 
ment at  Charlestown. 
Shawmut,  now  Boston, 
then  presented  the  ap- 
pearance of  three  high 
hills.  The  settlers  at 
Charlestown  called  it 
Trimountain. 

In  the  summer  of 
1630,  a great  sickness 
broke  out  among  the 
settlers  at  Salem  and 
The  sickness  was  attributed  to 


TRIMOUNTAIN. 


Charlestown.  Many  died, 
unwholesome  water. 

When  William  Blackstone  heard  of  the  distress,  he  invited 
Winslow  and  his  friends  to  remove  to  Boston,  telling  them 
how  pure  and  healthful  were  the  springs  at  that  place.  The 
invitation  was  accepted,  and  settlers  from  Salem  and  Charles- 
town began  to  build  around  the  three  pleasant  hills. 


ON  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  CHARLES. 


William  Blackstone, 


43 


1633- 

But  William  Blackstone  did  not  like  his  new  neighbors, 
whom  he  had  so  cordially  invited  to  the  healthful  springs  in 
their  distress.  He  was  so  ungracious  as  to  sneer  at  them  as 
my  lord  neighbors,’^  and  he  sold  all  his  land  to  them, 
except  six  acres,  and  removed  again  into  the  wilderness  in 
1633.  He  settled  at  Rehoboth,  Rhode  Island.  Blackstone 
River  received  its  name  from  this  pioneer. 

The  Common  was  a part  of  Mr.  Blackstone’s  farm,  and 
Washington  Street  and  Tremont  Street  are  said  to  follow 
^Hhe  windings  of  William  Blackstone’s  cow.”  We  could 
readily  believe  this  even  were  it  not  further  stated  that  the 
new  dwellings  were  erected  upon  the  paths  through  the 
woods  made  by  Blackstone  in  his  journeys  about  his  farm. 
The  cow  must  have  picked  out  easy  paths,  without  much 
regard  to  directness.  She  did  not  know  what  illustrious 
people  would  follow  her  ways. 

The  six-acre  lot  that  Mr.  Blackstone  reserved  extended 
from  the  top  of  Beacon  Hill  to  the  Charles  River.  Beacon 
Street  and  Mt.  Vernon  Street  run  through  the  place  now. 
Upon  it  what  eminent  people  have  lived  ! Copley,  Phillips 
(the  first  mayor),  Harrison  Gray  Otis,  Channing,  John  Han- 
cock, Prescott,  Motley,  Parkman,  and  others  of  equal  or 
nearly  equal  eminence. 

Mr.  Blackstone  married  late  in  life.  He  died  at  Cumber- 
land, Rhode  Island,  in  May,  1675,  ^g^d  about  eighty  years. 
He  was  always  a lover  of  solitude,  and  this  taste  led  him  to 
Shawmut. 

The  settlements  on  the  Charles  River  were  Arcadias  in 
comparison  with  other  places.  The  Indians  were  friendly, 
and  never  stained  the  peaceful  banks  with  white  people’s 
blood.  The  colonists  were  generally  exempt  from  sickness, 
famine,  or  any  great  calamities.  Thus  the  settlements  grew, 
stretching  away  along  the  banks  of  the  winding  river,  that 
led  them  ever  on  to  fertile  fields  and  happy  homes. 


r;!* 


I 


I 

*•  ' s ' '} 


“ They  rejected  with  contempt  the  ceremonious  homage  which  other  sects 
substituted  for  the  pure  worship  of  the  soul.  Instead  of  catching  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  Deity  through  an  obscuring  veil,  they  aspired  to  gaze  full  on 
the  intolerable  brightness,  and  to  commune  with  Him  face  to  face.  Hence 
originated  their  contempt  for  terrestrial  distinctions.  The  difference  between 
the  greatest  and  meanest  of  mankind  seemed  to  vanish,  when  compared  with 
the  boundless  interval  which  separated  the  whole  race  from  Him  on  whom 
their  own  eyes  were  constantly  fixed.  They  recognized  no  title  to  superiority 
but  His  favor;  and  confident  of  that  favor,  they  despised  all  the  accomplish- 
ments and  all  the  dignities  of  the  world.”  — Macaulay, — “ The  PuritaiisT 


CHAPTER  IV. 


WHEREIN  IS  CONTAINED  TEIE  STORY  OF  LADY 
ARBELLA  JOHNSON. 

Those  were  dark  times  in  England  when  good  George 
Herbert,  the  gentle  prophet,  wrote  : — 

Religion  stands  on  tiptoe  in  our  land, 

Ready  to  pass  to  the  American  strand.’’ 

Charles  I.  was  entering  upon  a course  of  tyranny  that 
brought  him  to  the  block.  Illegal  taxes  were  imposed  upon 
the  people.  Laud  ruled  the  Church  with  a rod  of  iron,  and 
thought  it  heresy  for  any  man  to  think  differently  from  the 
king  and  himself.  The  king  dissolved  the  Parliament,  and 
announced  his  intention  of  ruling  without  one.  The  Star 
Chamber  made  personal  liberty  and  private  rights  everywhere 
unsafe.  Injustice  prevailed  in  the  Court,  in  the  Church, 
everywhere.  Men  even  feared  to  caU  upon  God  for  help. 

The  Puritan  churches,  or  Dissenters,  as  those  who  differed 
from  the  Established  Church  were  called,  were  persecuted  on 
every  hand. 

The  Church  hath  no  place  left  to  fly  into  but  the  wilder- 
ness,” said  good  John  Winthrop ; and  into  the  wilderness 
John  Winthrop,  and  some  of  the  noblest  and  -most  heroic 
men  and  women  of  England,  determined  to  fly,  and  to  dare 
any  danger  rather  than  violate  the  principles  of  their  faith. 


48  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

They  engaged  a ship  to  take  them  to  New  England.  It 
was  called  the  Eagle. 

Let  us  name  it  the  Arbella,”  said  one  of  these  Christian 
pioneers,  for  we  have  with  us  the  daughter  of  an  earl.” 

The  daughter  of  the  earl  was  Lady  Arbella  Johnson. 
Her  father  was  Thomas,  the  third  Earl  of  Lincoln.  She 
was  a woman  of  gi-eat  strength  and  beauty  of  character. 
Mather  says,  She  took  New  England  on  her  way  to 
heaven.” 

She  had  married  Isaac  Johnson,  a gentleman  of  wealth, 
the  owner  of  landed  estates  in  the  counties  of  Rutland, 
Northampton,  and  Lincoln. 

Lady  Arbella’s  pastor  was  good  John  Cotton,  of  St.'Bo- 
tolph’s  Church,  Boston.  Mr.  Johnson  had  been  led  to 

the  exercise  of  strong 
faith  in  God  by  the 
influence  of  this  Dis- 
senting minister.  Just 
before  leaving  Eng- 
land he  made  a will 
in  which  he  remem- 
bered his  pastor  as 
one  from  whom  he 
had  received  much 
help  and  comfort  in 

SAILING  FROM  ENGLAND.  SpiotUal  StatC. 

This  gentleman  was 

indignant  at  the  oppression  and  injustice  that  he  saw 
his  church  suffering,  and  was  one  of  those  resolute  men 
who  were  willing  to  sacrifice  luxury  and  ease  for  religious 
freedom. 

The  Lady  Arbella  joined  him  in  his  views  and  purpose. 
She  went,  according  to  Hubbard,  from  a paradise  of  plenty 
and  pleasure,  which  she  enjoyed  in  the  family  of  a noble 


1630. 


John  Winthrop. 


49 


earldom,  into  a wilderness  of  wants.”  She  left  England  in 
April,  1630. 

The  ship  Arbella  led  the  way  of  a great  emigration  to 
New  England.  Ten  other  ships  followed,  among  them  the 
Mayflower  that  had  brought  the  Pilgrims  to  Plymouth. 

And  now  the  Arbella  is  upon  the  sea.  The  storms  of 
spring  toss  her  about  like  a thing  of  air.  Storm  succeeds 
storm,  and  the  voyage  is  slow.  But  a high  purpose  inspires 
the  company  amid  all  the  perils.  The  colonists  pray,  sing, 
read  the  word 
of  God,  and 
encourage  each 
other  with  pious 
conversation. 

John  W i n- 
throp  is  among 
them,  who  has 
sold  the  estate  of 
his  forefathers, 
and  is  going 
forth  over  the 
waters  to  plant 
a free  church 
in  the  wilder- 
ness.” He  has 
the  king’s  char- 
ter in  his  keep- 
ing. He  is  a 
person  of  grave 
but  benevolent  countenance ; he  dresses  in  black,  with  a 
broad  ruff  around  his  neck,  when  on  land,  and  he  makes  a 
very  handsome  picture,  which  we  present  to  the  reader. 
Sir  Richard  Saltonstall  is  also  here,  one  of  the  first  five 
projectors  of  the  new  colony. 


SIR  RICHARD  SALTONSTALL. 


50  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

It  was  the  month  of  June  when  the  Arbella  sailed  into 
the  harbor  of  Salem. 

In  1626  Peter  Palfrey,  Roger  Conant,  and  one  or  two 
other  gentlemen  settled  in  Salem.  In  1628  they  were  joined 
by  John  Endicott  and  a small  company,  and  thus  a planta- 
tion was  begun  at  the  place. 

There  were  six  or  eight  dwellings  in  the  town  when  the 
Arbella  arrived.  The  new  land  must  have  looked  cheerful 
to  the  sea-weary  colonists,  for  it  was  clothed  with  the  verdure 
of  summer  time,  and  the  days  were  the  longest  and  fairest 
of  the  year. 

Lady  Arbella,  looking  very  pale  and  feeling  very  much 
exhausted,  becomes  the  guest  of  John  Endicott.  Some  of 
the  company  go  away  to  form  a settlement  at  Charlestown. 

Her  husband  makes  a journey  to  Boston  with  Governor 
Winthrop  and  others.  He  thinks  the  three  green  hills  over- 
looking the  sheltered  harbor  very  lovely,  and  he  decides  that 
he  will  there  make  his  abode  and  provide  a hom^  for  his 
beautiful  wife. 

He  began  to  prepare  the  ground  where  the  Court  House 
stands  to-day,  near  the  City  Hall.  The  lot  he  selected 
extended  to  where  King’s  Chapel  now  lifts  its  low  tower, 
and  reminds  all  who  pass  of  the  generations  that  are  gone. 
He  marked  it  out,  dreamed  bright  dreams  of  the  future,  and 
returned  to  Salem  to  tell  Lady  Arbella  what  a lovely  spot  he 
had  found. 

He  returned  on  foot,  through  the  summer  forests  that 
stretched  away  from  the  blue  harbor. 

When  he  arrived  at  Salem  he  found  Lady  Arbella  suddenly 
reduced  to  the  mere  shadow  of  a woman  ; he  saw  that  she 
was  not  long  for  this  world,  and  his  heart  sank  within  him. 

The  settlers  shook  their  heads  and  said,  ‘^The  Lady 
Arbella  will  not  be  with  us  long.  We  will  make  her  life  as 
happy  as  we  can.” 


1630. 


Death  of  Lady  Arbella. 


51 


She  looked  out  upon  the  new  settlement,  and  saw  the  men 
at  work  on  their  houses  \ she  saw  at  times  dusky  forms  in 
paint  and  feathers  come  to  the  town.  She  heard  the  settlers 
talk  of  their  plans  for  the  future,  but  she  felt  that  she  would 


THE  FIRST  king’s  CHAPEL. 

not  long  enjoy  the  sight  of  the  pleasant  harbors  and  green 
forests,  but  would  soon  be  at  rest. 

And  so  it  was.  She  was  after  a little  time  unable  to  sit  up 
in  her  chair,  and  in  about  one  month  from  the  time  of  the 
landing  she  died. . 

They  made  her  a grave  amid  the  oaks  and  pines.  The 


52 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


city  of  Salem  sprang  into  life  around  it,  and  at  last,  after 
two  hundred  years,  they  have  erected  a stone  church  on  the 
spot. 

Her  husband  returned  to  Boston  a broken-hearted  man. 
He,  too,  began  to  waste  away.  He  lived  but  a few  weeks 
after  the  death  of  Lady  Arbella. 

Bury  me,”  he  said,  in  the  spot  I had  marked  out  for 
our  house.” 

They  did  so.  His  was  the  first  grave  in  the  field  that  is 
now  known  as  King’s  Chapel  Burying-ground. 

In  July  the  Arbella,  the  admiral  of  the  little  fleet,  a vessel  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  tons,  manned  with  fifty-two  seamen, 
and  furnished  with  twenty-eight  pieces  of  ordnance,  dropped 
anchor  in  Boston  harbor,  accompanied  by  the  Talbot,  the 
vice-admiral,  and  the  Jewell,  the  captain  of  the  fleet. 

These  were  probably  the  vessels  into  which  Lieutenant- 
Governor  Dudley  says  we  unshipped  our  goods,  and  with 
much  cost  and  labour  brought  them  in  July  to  Charles 
TowneC 


WINTHROP’S  FLEET  IN  BOSTON  HARBOR 


il 

it 


ysWftK'*' 


“ Month  after  month  passed  away,  and  in  autumn  the  ships  of  the  merchants 
Came  with  kindred  and  friends,  with  cattle  and  corn  for  the  Pilgrims. 

All  in  the  village  was  peace  ; the  men  were  intent  on  their  labors, 

Busy  with  hewing  and  building,  with  garden-plot  and  with  m^restead, 

Busy  with  breaking  the  glebe,  and  mowing  the  grass  in  the  mi^adows, 
Searching  the  sea  for  its  fish,  and  hunting  the  deer  in  the  forest.” 


' >.  -.VI 

5- 


b' 


CHAPTER  V. 


WHEREIN  ARE  RELATED  SOME  INCIDENTS  OF  THE 
LIFE  OF  GOVERNOR  JOHN  WINTHROP,  THE 
FOUNDER  OF  BOSTON. 

The  traveller  in  England,  who  goes  down  to  Groton,  in 
the  county  of  Suffolk,  in  summer,  will  there  see  an  ancient, 
fortress-like  church,  standing  serenely  in  the  sun,  and  over- 
looking a quiet  landscape  of  matchless  verdure.  Close  to 
to  the  church,  under  the  windows  as  it  were,  may  be  seen 
the  old  tomb  where  rest  the  remains  of  the  Winthrop  family. 
In  this  dreamy  old  town  Governor  John  Winthrop  was  born 
on  the  2 2d  of  January,  1588. 

Few  of  my  readers  will  ever  go  to  Groton,  England,  to  see 
the  old  tomb  of  the  Winthrops,  but  nearly  all  may  go  to 
King’s  Chapel  Burying-ground  and  there  see  the  tomb  where 
Governor  John  Winthrop,  one  of  the  most  noble  men  and 
certainly  the  most  useful  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay 
Colony,  sleeps.  The  slender  trees  shade  it,  the  sun  pencils 
it  lightly  in  summer  through  the  green  leaves,  beyond  it  busy 
men  are  seen  going  to  and  coming  from  the  City  Hall. 

Governor  John  Winthrop  was  the  founder  of  Boston. 

He  was  educated  at  Cambridge,  England,  in  Trinity 
College. 

He  was  elected  governor  by  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Com- 
pany of  London.  He  sailed  in  the  Arbella,  as  we  have  told 
you,  and  he  brought  the  charter  of  Massachusetts  with  him. 
He  landed  at  Salem,  removed  to  Charlestown,  and  thence  to 


58  Yo7mg  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

Boston,  and  was  twelve  times  re-elected  governor  of  the 
Colony,  and  three  times  chosen  deputy-governor. 

His  residence  was  on  Washington  Street,  just  opposite  the 
foot  of  School  Street ; the  Old  South  Church  stands  on  the 
ground  that  was  a part  of  his  garden.  There  was  a natural 
spring  of  water  near  by,  cool  and  very  healthful.  This  spring 
gave  the  name  to  a once  famous,  but  now  almost  neglected 
street,  called  Spring  Lane. 

In  his  youth  he  was  the  subject  of  a somewhat  remarkable 
religious  experience,  which  formed  his  views  and  directed 
his  aims  for  life.  We  will  give  you  a glance  at  this  powerful 
change,  as  it  will  show  you  what  kind  of  men  the  Puritans 
were,  and  how  firmly  they  believed  themselves  led  and 
inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  God  : — 

I began,”  he  says,  to  come  under  strong  exercises  of 
conscience.  I could  no  longer  dally  with  religion.  God  put 
my  soul  to  sad  tasks  sometimes,  which  yet  the  flesh  would 
shake  off  and  outwear  still.  Notwithstanding  all  my  stub- 
bornness and  kind  rejections  of  mercy.  He  left  me  not  till 
He  had  overcome  my  heart  to  give  itself  up  to  Him  and  to 
bid  farewell  to  all  the  world. 

Now  came  I to  some  peace  and  comfort  in  God.  I 
loved  a Christian  and  the  very  ground  he  went  upon. 
I honored  a faithful  minister  in  my  heart,  and  could  have 
kissed  his  feet.  I could  not  miss  a sermon,  though  many 
miles  away.” 

In  his  journal,  passing  over  a period  of  many  years,  he  has 
left  an  account  of  his  inward  struggle  with  besetting  sins. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  blameless  of  men,  but  one  would 
suppose  from  this  account  that  he  was  a most  dreadful  evil- 
doer. When  he  was  about  thirty  years  of  age  he  was  taken 
very  sick.  During  this  sickness  he  gained  that  experience 
of  faith  which  every  Puritan  believed  essential  to  a Christian 
life. 


JOHN  WINTHROP. 


0^ 


1630.  yohn  Winthroy s yournaL  61 

He  says : — 

The  good  Spirit  of  the  Lord  breathed  upon  my  soul  and 
said  I should  live.  Now  could  my  soul  close  with  Christ 
and  rest  there  in  sweet  content,  so  ravished  with  his  love,  as 
I desired  nothing  and  feared  nothing,  but  was  filled  with  joy 
unspeakable  and  glorious,  and  with  the  spirit  of  adoption.” 

This  language  reads  like  that  of  an  ancient  prophet.  We 
might  quote  pages  of  similar  narrative  as  simple  and  sublime. 
But  these  pictures  will  show  you  the  kind  of  man  the  father 
of  our  city  was.  You  may  perhaps  look  with  more  venera- 
tion on  the  bronze  statue  in  Scollay  Square,  after  getting  this 
view  of  his  inner  life. 

But  it  was  the  stern  battles  of  his  public  career  that  history 
most  records.  The  journal  of  his  life  in  Boston  lies  before 
me;  it  reads  like  a long  story ; we  hope  our  young  friends 
may  read  it.^ 

Here  is  an  extract  of  the  events  of  a single  week,  written 
soon  after  his  arrival  at  Salem  : — 

‘‘Thursday,  yuly  i (1630).  The  Mayflower  and  the 
Whale  arrived  safe  in  Charlton  (Charlestown)  harbor.  Their 
passengers  were  all  in  health,  but  most  of  their  cattle  dead. 

“Friday,  2d.  The  Talbot  arrived  there.  She  had  lost 
fourteen  passengers. 

My  son,  Henry  Winthrop,  was  drowned  at  Salem. 

Saturday,  3d.  The  Hopewell  and  William  and  Francis 
arrived. 

“Monday,  5th.  The  Trial  arrived  at  Charlton,  and  the 
Charles  at  Salem. 

Tuesday,  6th.  The  Success  arrived. 

“ Wednesday,  7th.  The  Lion  went  back  to  Salem. 

Thursday,  8th.  We  kept  a day  of  Thanksgiving  in  all 
plantations.” 

* The  History  of  New  England  from  1630  to  1649,”  ^7  Winthrop, 
Esq.,  from  his  original  manuscripts.  Edited  by  James  Savage. 


62  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

What  heroic  modesty  appears  in  this  simple  journal : My 
son,  Henry  Winthrop,  was  droitmed  at  Salem, He  would 
have  considered  it  selfish  to  have  said  more  of  his  boy.  ^ 
Were  there  not  stricken  hearts  all  around  him?  What  were 
his  griefs  more  than  another’s  ! Yet  this  son  was  a most 
interesting  and  promising  young  man,  and  beloved  by  all  the 
colonists. 

This  journal  of  a week  shows  also  how  rapidly  emigrants 
began  to  arrive.  These  emigrants  had  intended  to  settle  in 
one  place.  But  this  was  not  so  to  be.  ‘‘We  were  forced/’ 
says  Deputy-Governor  Dudley,  in  a letter  to  the  Countess  of 
Lincoln,  “ to  change  counsel,  and  for  our  present  shelter  to 
plant  dispersedly ; some  at  Charlestown,  which  standeth  on 
the  north  side  of  the  mouth  of  Charles  River ; some  on  the 
south  side  thereof,  which  place  we  named  Boston,  as  we 
intended  to  have  done  the  place  we  first  resolved  on  ; some 
of  us  upon  the  Mistick,  which  we  named  Medford ; some  .of 
us  westward  on  Charles  River,  which  place  we  called  Water- 
town  ; others  of  us  two  miles  from  Boston  in  a place  we 
named  Roxbury,  and  the  western  men  four  miles  south  from 
Boston,  at  a place  we  called  Dorchester.” 

Cambridge,  which  included  within  its  limits  the  territory 
where  are  the  present  towns  of  Brighton,  Newton,  Arlington, 
Lexington,  Bedford,  and  Billerica,  had  its  beginning  in  an 
agreement  between  Governor  Winthrop  and  his  assistants  to 
build  a protected  town  for  the  seat  of  government  between 
Roxbury  and  Boston.  The  location  proved  unsuitable,  and 
they  finally  determined  to  build  “ at  a place  a mile  east  of 
Watertown,  on  the  Charles  River.”  Here  Cambridge  was 
founded  in  1631.  Deputy  Governor  Dudley  and  his  son-in- 
law,  Bradstreet,  were  the  first  inhabitants.  Governor  Win- 
throp built  a house  there,  but  was  called  by  duty  to  Boston. 
For  this,  Dudley,  who  was  a fiery-minded  man,  accused  him 
of  violating  his  promise,  and  called  him  many  hard  names, 
which  caused  Winthrop  much' sorrow. 


WINTHKOP  AND  DUDLEY. 


1632. 


The  First  Meeiing-FIouse. 


65 


Governor  Winthrop’s  settlement  in  Boston  rapidly  grew, 
and  drew  to  it  some  of  the  ablest  men  that  came  to  New 
England  at  the  beginning  of  the  great  emigration.  A church 
was  formed,  and  John  Wilson,  a saintly  man,  became  the  first 
pastor.  It  was  called  the  First  Church..  The  simple  cove- 
nant of  this  church  is  now  inscribed  on  one  of  the  windows 
of  the  First  Church  on  the  Back  Bay.  You  may  like  to  go 
and  see  it  some  day. 

Mr.  Wilson  preached  at  times  in  private  houses  and  under 
the  boughs  of  great  trees.  A meeting-house  was  at  last 
erected.  Here  is  a pic- 
ture of  it. 

Should  you  go  to  the 
Back  Bay  to  see  the  cove- 
nant of  the  First  Church, 
look  around  you  upon  the 
splendid  edifices  of  reli- 
gion, art,  and  education 
that  rise  on  every  hand, 
then  think  of  this  picture, 
and  of  good  Mr.  Wilson 
preaching  under  the  trees. 

The  new  colonists  decided  that  Boston  would  be  the 
most  appropriate  place  to  hold  public  meetings  and  the 
General  Court.  Of  course,  Mr.  Dudley  thought  it  should 
be  Cambridge,  and  he  became  very  angry  over  the  de- 
cision and  said  more  hard  things  about  Governor  Win- 
throp. 

We  have  given  you  some  incidents  of  Winthrop’s  religious 
feelings,  let  us  now  give  you  a few  anecdotes  of  his  conduct 
under  severe  trial.  Dudley  once  wrote  him  a hard,  insulting 
letter.  He  returned  it  calmly,  saying  : — 

I am  not  willing  to  keep  such  an  occasion  of  provocation 
by  me.” 


FIRST  MEETING-HOUSE. 


5 


66 


Young  Folks  History  of  Bost07i, 


Afterwards,  when  Winthrop  did  Dudley  a great  kindness, 
the  latter  gracefully  said  : — 

Your  overcoming  yourself  hath  overcome  me.’^ 

The  two  men  were  reconciled  at  last.  We  will  tell  you  one 
of  the  ways  by  which  it  was  brought  about.  It  reads  like  a 
passage  from  the  ancient  Scriptures.  Says  the  chronicler  : — 
'^The  Governor  and  Deputy-Governor  went  down  to 
Concord  to  view  some  lands  for  farms. 

They  offered  each  other  the  first  choice,  but  because  the 
Deputy’s  was  first  granted,  and  himself  had  store  of  land 
already,  the  Governor  yielded  him  the  choice. 

So  at  the  place  where  the  Deputy’s  land  was  to  begin 
there  were  two  great  stones  which  they  called  Two  Brothers. 

They  did  this  in  remembrance  that  they  were  brothers 
by  their  children’s  marriage  and  did  so  brotherly  agree. 

A little  creek  near  those  stones  was  to  part  their  lands.” 
Salem,  Charlestown,  Boston,  Roxbury,  and  Cambridge  now 
began  to  receive  large  additions  by  emigration,  and  the  per- 
secuted Dissenters  in  England  looked  to  this  promising 
colony  as  their  place  of  refuge. 

A settlement  had  been  made  near  Boston  some  years 
before  the  coming  of  Winthrop.  In  1625  Captain  Wollaston 
had  led  a company  to  Braintree,  and  called  the  place  Mount 
Wollaston. 

The  settlement  was  a happy  and  prosperous  one  for  a 
time,  but  Captain  Wollaston  and  a part  of  the  company  left 
it  at  last  to  make  a voyage  to  Virginia.  • 

Among  the  men  left  behind  was  one  Thomas  Morton,  a 
noisy,  riotous  fellow,  who  seems  to  have  believed  that  the 
object  of  life  was  to  enjoy  one’s  self,  and  not  to  live  with 
definite  aims  as  the  Puritans  did. 

One  night  after  the  captain’s  departure  Morton  called  the 
people  together  and  gave  them  plenty  of  punch,  and  when 
they  had  become  merry  and  excited  he  said, — 


1628.  Revels  at  Merry- Mount.  67 

‘‘The  captain  is  gone ; let  us  turn  out  the  lieutenant,  and 
then  we  can  all  do  as  we  please.” 

This  would  be  freedom,  indeed.  The  men  consented, 
and  the  poor  lieutenant  was  obliged  to  relinquish  his  au- 
thority. 

The  company  now  began  to  do  as  they  pleased,  and 
a great  change  passed  over  the  settlement  at  Mount 
Wollaston.  The  men  spent  their  days  in  idleness,  or 
dancing  with  the  Indians,  and  their  nights  in  drinking  and 
carousing.  They  erected  a May-pole  to  mark  the  place  for 
their  dances  and  carousals.  They  called  the  place  Merry- 
Mount. 

The  Indians  liked  Merry- Mount,  and  the  Indian  women 
* joined  in  the  merry-makings.  Morton  began  to  sell  arms  to 
the  Indians. 

This  was  unlawful.  Captain 
Miles  Standish  was  accordingly 
sent  from  Plymouth  to  arrest 
Morton,  which  he  did,  and  the 
colony  at  Merry-Mount  was 
thus  broken  up.  Soon  after  the 
settlement  of  Salem,  Endicott 
visited  Mount  AVollaston,  and 
cut  down  the  May-pole  of  the 
roystering  pioneer.  Morton 
says  that  this  May-pole  was  “a 
goodly  pine-tree,  eighty  feet 
long,  with  a pair  of  buck  horns 
nailed  somewhat  near  the  top 
of  it.”  The  drunken  and  licen- 
tious revels  at  Merry- Mount 
proved  a calamity  to  the  colonies,  in  that  it  put  the  Indians 
in  possession  of  the  deadly  weapons  of  the  whites. 

The  journal  of  Governor  Winthrop  is  full  of  interesting 


WINTHROP  FORDING  A STREAM. 


68  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

stories.  One  of  them  relates  to  his  visit  to  Plymouth  when 
he  forded  streams  by  being  carried  on  a stout  man’s  back. 


REVELS  AT  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Here  is  a touching  story  of  a misfortune  that  happened  in 
the  cool  October  weather  of  1630. 


MILES  STANDISH  DISCOVERS  THE  REVELLERS  AT  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Of 


ILLIHOIS 


1630. 


The  Lost  Family, 


71 


THE  LOST  FAMILY. 

On  the  28th  of  October,  Richard  Garrett,  a shoemaker  of 
Boston,  and  one  of  his  daughters,  and  four  other  persons 
went  towards  Plymouth  in  a shallop.  Mr.  Garrett  started 
against  the  advice  of  his  friends,  as  cold  weather  was  at 
hand. 

They  were  driven  out  to  sea  by  a high  wind,  and  the  boat 
took  in  much  water,  which  began  to  freeze. 

They  gave  themselves  up  for  lost,  commended  themselves 
to  God,  and  waited  for  death. 

At  last  one  espied  land  near  Cape  Cod.  They  hoisted  a 
part  of  their  sail  and  were  driven  through  the  rocks  to  the 
shore. 

A part  of  the  company  landed,  but  some  of  them  found 
their  feet  frozen  into  the  ice  so  that  they  could  not  move 
them  until  cut  out. 

They  kindled  a fire,  but  having  no  hatchet  they  could 
secure  but  little  wood  to  feed  it,  and  were  forced  to  lie  in 
the  open  air  all  night.  The  weather  was  severely  cold  for 
the  season,  and  their  sufferings  were  extreme. 

The  next  morning  two  of  them  set  out  on  foot  for 
Plymouth,  which  they  supposed  to  be  near,  but  which  was 
really  fifty  miles  distant. 

On  their  way  they  met  two  Indian  squaws.  These,  in 
going  to  their  wigwam,  said  to  the  braves,  — 

‘‘We  have  seen  Englishmen.” 

“ They  are  shipwrecked,”  said  the  Indians.  “ Let  us  go 
in  search  of  them,  and  bring  them  to  our  wigwam.” 

The  company  was  soon  overtaken  by  the  friendly  Indians, 
and  returned  with  them  to  their  wigwam,  where  they  were 
provided  with  warmth  and  food. 

One  of  the  Indians  offered  to  lead  the  two  men  to 


72  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

Plymouth,  and  another  started  to  find  the  members  of  the 
company  left  behind,  and  to  relieve  them,  if  possible. 

This  faithful  Indian  found  the  lost  travellers  at  last  in  great 
distress,  at  a distance  of  some  seven  miles. 

I will  go  back  and  get  a hatchet,”  he  said,  ^^and  I will 
build  you  a wigwam.” 

Back,  a seven  miles’  walk,  on  that  cold  day  plodded  the 
Indian,  and  returned  as  soon  as  he  could  with  the  hatchet. 
He  built  a shelter  for  the  sufferers,  and  got  them  wood  to 
feed  the  fire. 

They  were  so  weak  and  frozen  as  to  be  scarcely  able  to 
move. 

Garrett,  the  leader  of  the  adventure,  was  one  of  the  dis- 
abled party  left  behind  at  this  place.  In  two  days  he  died. 

The  ground  was  frozen  so  hard  that  they  could  not  dig  a 
grave  for  him,  but  the  good  Indian  succeeded  in  cutting  a 
hole  about  half  a yard  deep,  and  in  this  he  laid  the  body 
and  covered  it  with  boughs  to  protect  it  from  the  wolves. 

What  hours  of  anguish  were  these,  and  what  a messenger 
of  mercy  proved  that  one  faithful  Indian  ! 

After  a time  a party  arrived  from  Plymouth  to  rescue  them. 
Another  of  the  company  died,  his  legs  being  mortified  with 
frost.”  The  two  men  who  went  towards  Plymouth  died, 
one  of  them  on  his  journey  thither,  and  the  other  soon 
after  his  arrival.  But  the  Indian  guide  led  the  English  to 
the  surviving  sufferers.  The  girl  escaped  with  the  least 
injury.  The  survivors  were  taken  back  to  Boston  in  a boat. 
They  were  supposed  by  the  colonists  there  to  have  been  lost. 

It  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  some  member  of  the 
colony  to  get  lost.  The  governor  himself  lost  his  way  at 
one  time,  and  passed  a most  uncomfortable  night  alone. 

He  had  a farm  on  the  west  side  of  Mystic  River,  which 
he  called  Ten  Hills.  One  evening  in  October,  1631,  he 


ENDICOTT  CUTTING  DOWN  MORTON’S  MAY-POLE. 


1631.  Governor  Winthrop  loses  his  Way,  75 

took  his  gun  and  walked  away  from  his  farmhouse,  thinking 
he  might  meet  a wolf.  The  wolves  were  very  plenty  between 
the  Charles  and  the  Mystic  at  that  time.  He  was  overtaken 
by  darkness,  and  was  unable  to  tell  the  direction  of  his  house. 
He  at  last  came  to  a deserted  Indian  wigwam  elevated  upon 
posts.  He  built  a fire  outside  to  keep  away  the  animals,  and 
lay  down  on  some  mats  he  found  within,  but  could  not  sleep. 

He  arose,  and  passed  the  night  feeding  the  fire  and  singing 
psalms. 

A little  before  day  it  began  to  rain.  The  governor  crept 
into  the  wigwam.  Presently  he  heard  a noise  outside.  He 
looked  out,  and  saw  an  Indian  squaw  climbing  up. 

He  shut  the  door  and  fastened  it  against  her,  which 
seems  rather  ungracious  treatment.  The  squaw  went  away 
from  her  poor  home  in  the  rain,  and  the  governor  gladly 
sought  his  own  home  as  soon  as  it  was  light. 

The  white  people  of  both  the  Plymouth  and  Massachu- 
setts Bay  Colonies  always  found  friends  in  the  Indians  in 
their  troubles  at  this  early  period,  and  when  any  one  lost 
his  way,  a good  Indian  guide  would  be  found  to  leave  his 
own  way  and  lead  him  home.  We  will  close  this  chapter 
with  one  of  the  many  stories  of  Indian  friendliness  that  at  this 
time  were  told  by  the  winter  firesides  of  the  two  colonies  : — 

THE  LOST  BOY. 

Aspinet,  sagamore  of  the  Nausets,  was  the  first  open  enemy 
encountered  by  the  Pilgrims  of  Plymouth  Colony. 

He  had  suffered  a grievous  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the 
English,  before  the  Pilgrims  came,  and  this  was  the  cause 
of  his  hostility. 

In  1614  one  Hunt,  a trader,  sailing  along  the  coast  in 
search  of  fish,  kidnapped  twenty-four  Indians  belonging  to 
Patuxet  or  Plymouth.  He  enticed  them  to  his  vessel  by 


76 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


false  pretences  and  promises,  and  caused  them  to  be  secured 
in  a very  brutal  manner.  Twelve  of  these  Indians  were  Nau- 
sets,  under  the  sachemship  of  Aspinet. 

In  the  summer  of  1621,  a little  boy  belonging  to  one  of 
the  families  of  Plymouth  Colony  strayed  into  the  forests  that 
then  covered  Massachusetts,  and  lost  his  way. 

He  at  last  met  an  old  Indian,  and  indicated  his  distress  to 
him  by  his  gestures  and  his  tears.  The  Indian  treated  him 
kindly,  and  gave  him  food,  and  took  him  along  with  him,  till 
they  came  to  a most  lovely  expanse  of  water  that  lay  by  the 
sea. 

There  was  great  excitement  in  Plymouth  Colony  when  it 
became  certain  that  the  boy  was  lost.  The  colonists  were 
very  suspicious  of  the  Indians,  well  knowing  how  much  cause 
for  hostile  feeling  towards  the  English  had  been  given  them 
by  Hunt  and  by  other  early  adventurers. 

A company  of  colonists,  under  the  leadership  of  Edward 
Winslow,  set  out  from  Plymouth  in  search  of  the  lost  boy. 
They  hoped  to  find  him  among  the  friendly  natives  near  the 
settlement,  but  much  feared  that  he  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  Aspinet,  who,  they  believed,  would  kill  him,  in  retaliation 
for  the  injuries  that  the  coast  Indians  had  suffered. 

The  party  sailed  along  the  coast  until  they  came  to  Cum- 
maquid,  where  they  anchored  in  a sheltered  body  of  water, 
near  the  fishing  huts  of  the  Mattakees.  The  chief  of  this 
territory  was  a young  man  named  Gyanough.  His  manners 
were  so  courteous  and  gentle,  and  his  disposition  so  amiable 
and  pacific,  that  he  made  himself  greatly  beloved  by  his  own 
people  and  by  the  neighboring  tribes.  The  English,  who 
were  his  neighbors,  bestowed  upon  him  the  appellation, 
'^The  Courteous  Sachem  of  Cummaquid.”  His  sachemship 
extended  over  the  Indians  inhabiting  the  country  known  now 
as  the  eastern  part  of  Barnstable,  and  the  western  part  of 
Yarmouth,  in  Massachusetts. 


A LOST  SETTLER  FOUND. 


o' >vv,v' 


i62I. 


The  Lost  Boy, 


79 


During  the  night,  the  tide  fell  so  low  as  to  leave  them 
aground.  In  the  morning  they  discovered  some  of  Gyan- 
ough’s  Indians  on  the  shore,  and  they  sent  Squanto,  an 
Indian  interpreter,  to  them,  to  inform  them  of  the  object  of 
their  visit,  and  of  their  friendly  disposition. 

''Have  you  any  tidings  of  a lost  English  boy?”  asked 
Squanto. 

" We  have  heard  of  him.  He  was  found  wandering  in  the 
woods  by  a fisherman.  He  is  well.” 

" Where  is  he  now?  ” 

" At  Nauset,  with  Aspinet.” 

The  English  now  thought  it  prudent  to  land,  and  to  make 
Gyanough  a visit.  The  Indians  seemed  greatly  delighted 
with  the  proposal,  and  a part  of  them  voluntarily  remained 
with  the  boatmen  as  hostages,  while  the  others  conducted 
the  strangers  to  the  rural  palace. 

Gyanough  received  them  in  a very  courteous  manner,  and 
ordered  a feast  to  be  spread  for  them.  He  assured  them  of 
the  safety  of  the  missing  boy,  and  did  not  seem  to  doubt 
that  Aspinet  would  receive  the  English  kindly,  and  deal  with 
them  justly. 

The  English  spent  a few  hours  with  Gyanough,  and  then 
sailed  for  Nauset,  to  recover  the  missing  boy. 

Nauset,  or  Namskeket,  was  a favorite  resort  of  the  Wam- 
panoag  Indians,  who  came  there'  to  gather  shell-fish  from  the 
immense  quantities  that  filled  the  picturesque  shores.  As 
Boon  as  the  English  arrived,  which  was  on  a lovely  summer 
afternoon,  they  sent  Squanto  to  the  royal  residence  of  As- 
pinet, to  acquaint  the  chief  with  their  errand,  and  to  ask  the 
favor  of  a friendly  interview. 

Aspinet  received  Squanto  kindly,  and,  as  he  was  too  noble 
an  Indian  to  take  advantage  of  an  accident  or  a misfortune 
for  the  purpose  of  revenge,  he  at  once  promised  to  pay  the 
English  a friendly  visit  at  a place  near  the  coast. 


8o  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


It  was  sunset,  and  the  fair  summer  light  was  fading  on  the 
calm  sea.  Just  as  the  shadows  were  growing  dark  on  the 
eastern  slopes  of  the  hills,  Aspinet  appeared,  followed  by  a 


INDIANS  RETURNING  A LOST  CHILD. 


great  train  of  warriors.  He  was  richly  ornamented,  and  his 
followers  were  bedecked  with  all  the  insignia  of  barbarian 
splendor.  Upon  his  great  shoulders,  glittering  with  beads 
and  wampum,  the  noble-hearted  chief  carried  the  little  boy. 


i62I. 


The  Lost  Boy. 


8i 


The  child’s  heart  was  filled  with  joy,  and  he  held  his  hands 
aloft  with  emotion,  when  he  saw  from  the  glimmering  hill- 
top the  English  sail  on  the  beautiful  sea. 

Aspinet  came  down  to  the  water’s  edge,  bearing  the 
delighted  child,  and  followed  by  a hundred  braves.  The 
English  were  waiting  to  receive  him  in  their  boat,  that  was 
anchored  in  the  shallow  water  near  the  shore.  The  chieftain 
did  not  stop  for  a canoe  to  convey  him  to  them.  He  came 
wading  through  the  water  until  he  reached  the  English,  then 
taking  the  boy  from  his  shoulders,  he  placed  him  upon  the 
deck.  The  boy  wore  on  his  neck  a most  beautiful  ornament 
of  Indian  beads. 


‘‘The  hand  that  cut 

The  Red  Cross  from  the  colors  of  the  king, 
Can  cut  the  red  heart  from  this  heresy.” 


CHAPTER  VI. 


WHEREIN  IS  GIVEN  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  SIR  HENRY 

VANE,  ANNE  HUTCHINSON,  AND  THOSE  RELIGIOUS 

PERSECUTIONS  OUT  OF  WHICH  GREW  LIBERTY  OF 

CONSCIENCE  AND  OPINION. 

Boston  grew.  All  of  the  settlements  on  the  borders  of 
Massachusetts  Bay  rapidly  increased.  Ships  bringing  emi- 
grants came  constantly  into  Boston  harbor. 

Stores  and  inns  were  opened  in  Boston.  Boats  were  built 
on  the  Mystic.  Ferry-boats  were  run  between  Boston  and 
Charlestown. 

John  Cotton,  the  learned  Dissenter  of  St.  Botolph’s  Church, 
preached  to  the  people.  The  Church  governed  politics,  and 
the  ministers  to  a large  extent  governed  the  Church. 

In  1635  a notable  event  happened  in  Boston.  It  was  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Henry  Vane,  a young  man  about  twenty-three 
years  of  age.  He  has  been  called  one  of  the  greatest  and 
purest  men  that  ever  walked  the  earth.” 

He  was  the  son  of  Sir  Henry  Vane,  was  educated  at  Ox- 
ford, and  had  become  an  enthusiastic  republican  in  politics, 
and  a Non-conformist  in  religion.  He  had  travelled  in 
France  and  Switzerland,  and  was  well  schooled  in  politics 
and  the  knowledge  of  statesmanship. 

He  was  received  in  Boston  with  public  demonstrations  of 
joy,  and  in  a few  months  after  his  arrival,  when  only  twenty- 
four  years  of  age,  was  chosen  governor  of  the  colony. 


86 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


About  this  time  dissenters  from  the  Puritans’  doctrines 
began  to  agitate  the  colony.  The  Puritans  dissented  from 
the  rituals  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  The  new  dissenters 
objected  to  the  Levitical  Law,  which  was  virtually  made  the 


HENRY  VANE. 


government  of  the  church*  and  colony.  They  were  called 
Antinomians.  They  taught  that  Christians  were  no  longer 
under  the  law  but  under  grace,  and  should  be  governed  by 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  all  things,  and  whatever  they  did  or  might 
do  was  right.  Each  man  was  a law  unto  himself. 


Anne  Hutchinson, 


87 


1635- 

The  leader  of  this  dissension  was  an  accomplished  and 
brilliant  woman,  the  daughter  of  an  English  clergyman  and 
the  wife  of  an  influential  colonist.  Her  name  was  Anne 
Hutchinson. 

She  was  accustomed  to  hold  religious  meetings  for  women. 
These  were  attended  by  some  seventy  or  eighty  persons.  She 
prayed,  gave  expositions  of  Scripture,  and  lectures  on  the  ser- 
mons of  Wilson  and  Cotton. 

The  leading  men  of  the  colony  resolved  to  silence  this 
woman,  but  Governor  Vane  had  no  sympathy  with  the 
attacks  on  Mrs.  Hutchinson.  The  gallant  Sir  Henry  espoused 
her  cause,  and  was  the  first  person  to  lay  down  with 
precision  the  doctrine  that  religious  opinion  ought  to  be 
exempted  from  all  civil  authority. 

This  position  of  Vane  made  him  unpopular,  and  the  next 
year  he  failed  of  an  election  as  governor.  He  returned  to 
England  in  d isappointment.  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  being  banished, 
went  to  Rhode  Island,  and  afterwards  to  New  York,  where  she 
was  killed  by  the  Indians  in  one  of  the  attacks  on  the  Dutch 
colonies.  She  was  a good  woman,  but  the  tendency  of  her 
doctrines,  as  the  reader  can  see,  was  towards  too  great  free- 
dom in  government  and  religious  conduct.  In  the  matter  of 
the  rights  of  conscience,  she  was  in  the  main  correct,  but 
the  people  were  not  quite  prepared  for  this  new  principle. 

Sir  Henry  Vane  became  a leader  in  England  in  the  strug- 
gle for  civil  and  religious  liberty.  He  carried  into  the  House 
of  Peers  the  articles  of  impeachment  against  Archbishop  Laud, 
whose  persecutions  had  driven  the  Puritans  to  Boston.  He 
helped  bring  Charles  I.  to  the  block,  but  he  was  jealous  of 
the  rising  power  of  Cromwell.  On  the  establishment  of  the 
Commonwealth  in  1649,  became  one  of  the  Council  of 
State. 

He  criticised  the  ambition  of  Cromwell  so  severely  as  to 
cause  the  Protector  much  vexation  and  chagrin. 


88 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


^^The  Lord  deliver  me  from  Sir  Harry  Vane  ! ” exclaimed 
Cromwell  on  one  occasion,  after  having  been  assailed  by  the 
fiery-minded  republican. 

After  the  restoration  of  the  Stuarts  to  the  throne,  this 
apostle  of  liberty,  this  thorn  in  the  flesh  to  kings  and  to  Crom- 
well,” lost  his  influence.  He  was  accused  of  high  treason, 
tried,  condemned,  and  executed  on  Tower  Hill. 


BURIAL  OF  THE  KING. 


His  deportment  at  the  hour  of  execution  was  full  of 
dignity.  His  last  prayer  was  wonderful.  He  died  like  a 
martyr  and  a victor.  The  principles  that  he  taught  have 
their  best  memorial  in  the  political  and  religious  freedom  of 
our  own  country,  and  the  republican  sentiment  of  the  world. 

In  February,  1631,  there  had  come  to  Boston  from  Wales 
a Non-conformist  minister,  by  the  name  of  Roger  Williams. 
He  had  been  educated  at  Pembroke  College,  Cambridge. 


if 


. Of  fHt 

Uf  ILLINOIS 


1631. 


Oliver  Cromwell, 


91 


He  was  chosen  assistant  to  Mr.  Skelton  in  the  ministry  at 
Salem.  Here  he  asserted  the  principle  that  the  Church 


OLIVER  CROMWELL. 


should  be  separated  from  the  State,  and  that  a man’s  con- 
science should  not  be  subject  to  the  civil  law.  For  these 
opinions,  which  all  true  Americans  hold  to-day,  he  was 


92  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

obliged  to  leave  Salem.  He  went  to  Plymouth,  but  after- 
wards returned  to  Salem,  and  became  the  pastor  of  the 
church..  In  1635  he  was  banished,  for  again  asserting  his 
views  of  religious  toleration  and  freedom.  He  went  to 
Rhode  Island ; was  sheltered  by  the  good  chief  Massasoit, 
who  showed  himself  as  much  a Christian  at  heart  as  the 
magistrates  of  Salem  had  shown  themselves  bigots  in  spirit 
and  conduct;  he  founded  the  State  of  Rhode  Island,  the 
happiest  and  most  prosperous  of  all  the  early  New  England 
Christian  Commonwealths,  and  one  of  which  the  civilization 
of  the  world  has  never  been  ashamed.  Rhode  Island  is  the 
smallest  State  in  the  Union,  and  the  richest,  according  to  the 
number  of  inhabitants,  and  it  has,  perhaps,  the  fairest  history 
of  all. 

Roger  Williams  studied  the  Indian  language,  and  en- 
deavored to  teach  the  Indians.  As  he  was  a man  of  peace, 
his  influence  over  them  was  great.  Hearing  that  a council  of 
war  was  to  be  held  by  the  leaders  of  the  tribes  for  the 
destruction  of  the  towns  that  had  sent  him  into  exile,  he 
suddenly  appeared  among  the  Indians,  and  tried  to  prevent 
the  alliance. 

He  visited  England,  and  was  a friend  of  Milton,  Cromwell, 
and  Sir  Henry  Vane.  He  died  at  Providence  in  1683. 

In  1649  Governor  Winthrop  died.  He  was  succeeded  by 
John  Endicott,  the  founder  of  Salem,  a very  stern,  resolute, 
inflexible  man. 

There  were  strange  doings  in  Governor  Endicott’s  day, 
as  you  shall  presently  be  told.  He  felt  that  it  was  his  pre- 
rogative as  governor  to  make  all  the  people  think  as  he 
did,  and  to  punish  any  who  should  not.  What  was  the 
use  of  a governor  if  it  were  not  to  control  the  opinions  of 
men? 

Endicott  had  left  England  because  he  differed  in  opinion 
from  the  state  Church,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  have  occurred 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  APPEALING  TO  THE  INDIANS 


IIBR^RY 
Of  !Ht 

UNiVEHiinv  Of  iLLiffUiS 


1656. 


John  Endicott. 


95 


to  him  that  any  one  had  the  right  to  be  so  perverse  as  to 
dissent  from  him  and  from  his  church,  and  for  this  reason  he 
left  a very  dark  history,  as  we  shall  see.  He  cut  the  red 
cross  out  of  the  English  flag  one 
training- day,  because  he  regard- 
ed it  an  emblem  of  idolatry; 
and  he  was  unwilling  to  march 
his  company  of  soldiers  under 
it,  — an  act  which  much  dis- 
turbed Governor  Winthrop, 
whose  heart  was  loyal  to  the 
banner  associated  with  Eng- 
land’s historic  greatness  and 
glory. 

In  1656  Governor  Endicott 
learned  with  surprise  that  some 
Quaker  books  had  been  brought  cutting  out  the  red  cross. 
into  the  colony  ; his  surprise  was 

soon  after  doubled  by  hearing  that  a vessel  from  Barbadoes 
had  landed  two  Quaker  women  in  Boston. 

Two  Quaker  women  ! What  was  to  be  done  ? Endicott 
summoned  Deputy-Governor  Bellingham,  a man  of  a cloudy, 
severe,  and  quick  temper,  and  Rev.  John  Norton,  the  Bos- 
ton pastor,  a man  of  austere  and  melancholy  temperament, 
to  a consultation.  The  three  were  not  long  in  deciding 
that  the  two  women  should  be  arrested  and  sent  to  jail 
until  they  could  be  carried  out  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
colony. 

There  was  an  open  space  before  the  meeting-house  which 
contained  some  corrective  implements  that  would  look  rather 
odd  in  an  open  space  before  a meeting-house  to-day.  There 
were  the  stocks  and  pillory  and  whipping-post,  and  we 
know  not  what  other  means  of  discipline  and  grace.  Here 
a pile  of  fagots  was  made,  and  the  dangerous  Quaker 


96 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


books  were  burned,  after  which  the  magistrates  for  a short 
time  rested  from  their  resolute  efforts  to  secure  uniformity  of 
opinion. 

But  not  long  : another  vessel  came,  bringing  eight  Quakers, 
four  men  and  four  women.  Here  was  trouble,  indeed.  The 
officers,  however,  were  not  delinquent;  they  arrested  them 


THE  STOCKS. 


all  as  soon  as  they  arrived,  and  marched  them  off  to  jail. 
What  an  interesting  procession  that  must  have  been  ! They 
were  sent  back  in  the  same  vessel  that  brought  them,  and 
judicial  old  Governor  Endicott  had  time  to  breathe  freely 
once  more. 

He  must  have  been  glad  when  they  were  gone,  for  one 
Sunday,  when  he  was  returning  from  church  in  great  dignity, 
and  had  reached  the  place  opposite  the  jail,  he  heard  a sharp 
voice  exclaiming,  — 


JOHN  ENDICOTT. 


LiBK^HV 

Of  iHf 

UHiVERSiit  Of  iumuis 


1656.  Persecution  of  the  Quakers,  99 

Woe,  woe  to  the  oppressor  ! Woe,  woe  ! ’’  or  words  to 
this  import. 

He  was  greatly  shocked  that  his  office  was  not  more  re- 
spected. The  voice  was  one  of  the  imprisoned  Quakers. 


THE  PILLORY. 


Have  her  silenced,”  he  ordered,  and  then  proceeded  on 
his  way,  wondering  that  there  were  such  unreasonable  people 
in  the  world. 

The  General  Court  now  passed  an  act  forbidding  Quakers 
to  come  into  the  colony.  But  they  continued  to  come.  The 
magistrates  had  them  whipped  and  sent  away,  and  when 
they  returned  had  them  whipped  again.  Whipping  at  the 
cart-tail  was  a common  mode  of  punishment.  The  clothes  of 
the  Quaker  were  stripped  down  to  the  loins,  and  the  lash 
was  applied  to  his  bare  back.  We  give  a picture  of  one  of 
these  unhappy  scenes. 


lOO  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

A number  of  Quakers  in  England,  hearing  of  the  persecu- 
tions of  their  sect  in  New  England,  thought  they  were  bound 
in  duty  to  come  to  America,  and  after  the  manner  of  the  an- 
cient prophets  to  denounce  the  bloody  magistrates  ” for 
laying  hands  on  the  people  of  the  Lord.”  Governor  Endi- 
cott,  as  you  may  well  believe,  attended  to  their  cases  as  fast 
as  they  arrived ; he  caused  them  to  be  imprisoned,  whipped, 
and  some  of  the  more  persistent  ones  to  lose  their  ears.  It 
was  at  last  enacted  that  any  Quaker  who  returned  to  the  col- 
ony three  times  should  have  his  tongue  burned  through 
with  a hot  iron.”  We  must  confess  that  we  do  not  very 
greatly  love  Governor  Endicott,  and  should  not  be  inclined 
to  urge  one  to  subscribe  over-liberally  for  a monument  to 
him.  He  is  not  one  of  the  characters  that  improve  with 
history. 

Yet  he  thought  he  did  right.  The  Quakers  themselves 
were  sometimes  to  blame ; some  of  them  sought  martyrdom, 
and  they  often  said  and  did  unwise  things, — interrupting 
meetings  and  disturbing  the  public  peace,  calling  the  clergy 
‘Giypocrites,”  the  ''seed  of  the  serpent,”  "hirelings,”  and 
other  names  disagreeable  to  hear. 

Some  of  them  were  executed.  Three  of  a company  who 
had  been  banished  returned  to  suffer,  one  of  the  women 
bringing  " winding-sheets  ” with  them.  What  a strange  spec- 
tacle that  must  have  been  ! 

But  the  people  at  last  sickened  of  scenes  like  these.  Gov- 
ernor Endicott  and  the  melancholy  Norton  were  compelled 
by  public  sentiment  to  pause  and  consider  what  they  were 
doing.  The  General  Court  repealed  the  law  for  capital 
punishment  of  Quakers,  and  the  excitement  gradually  died 
away. 


NUXbUU  JVl  livx  b(XtlVJ 


Of  fHf 
’ijm'ssin  Of 


The  Story  of  Mary  Dyer, 


103 


1656. 


THE  STORY  OF  MARY  DYER. 

The  people  have  gathered  on  Boston  Common  to  witness 
an  execution.  From  the  jail  to  the  Common  the  highway  is 
full  of  excited  men,  some  sullen,  some  indignant,  that  people 
who  have  committed  no  crime  should  be  condemned  to  die ; 
some  upholding  the  magistrates,  others  excusing  them ; all  is 
rancor ; every  one’s  heart  is  moved. 

Soldiers  are  distributed  here  and  there  to  preserve  order, 
and  prevent  an  outbreak.  There  are  a hundred  soldiers 
about  the  jail. 

Three  condemned  Quakers  come  forth  from  the  prison. 
Look  at  them.  They  walk  hand  in  hand,  — two  men,  one 
woman. 

They  pass  firmly  along,  a great  crowd  following. 

On  the  Common  there  was  a gallows ; some  say  that  the 
Old  Elm  was  used  for  the  purpose.  It  was  near  the  end 
of  the  Common,”  and  the  great  tree  marked  the  end  of  the 
Common  then. 

The  victims  go  up  to  it,  and  bow  their  necks  calmly  to  the 
hangman’s  nervous  hands. 

A shudder  passes  through  the  crowd.  The  two  men  are 
swung  into  the  air,  — a dreadful  sight,  — but  the  woman 
stands  unharmed,  as  though  still  awaiting  her  doom. 

The  men  die ; then  the  magistrates  order  the  woman  to  be 
taken  away. 

The  crowd  are  joyful  that  she  is  spared.  There  is  a feeling 
of  relief  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  surging  under  the 
trees. 

Why  dost  thou  not  let  me  die  with  my  brethren  ? ” she 
demands. 

“ Your  son  has  come  to  the  city,  and  has  interceded  for 
your  life.  We  made  you  stand  by  the  condemned  and  wit- 


104  Voting  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

ness  their  death  that  you  might  see  their  sufferings  and  your 
peril,  and  never  return  to  Boston  again.” 

She  went  away  with  her  son.  But  she  was  sorry  she  could 
not  have  been  a martyr.  Her  dissatisfaction  grew. 

Not  long  after  she  returned  to  Boston,  and  denounced  the 
magistrates  for  their  unholy  deeds. 

Woe,  woe,  woe  ! ” she  said,  and  followed  it  with  the  awful 
language  of  the  prophets,  when  condemning  the  bloody  cities 
of  old  for  their  sins. 

She  was  again  condemned  to  death. 

Again  a great  crowd  gathered  on  the  Common.  It  was  not 
then  the  beautiful  park  that  it  is  now.  The  Charles  River 
marshes  came  almost  to  the  hill  where  the  Soldiers’  Monu- 
ment now  stands.  The  Great  Elm  stood  at  the  end  of  the 
town,  on  the  border  of  the  marshes. 

We  will  release  you,”  said  the  magistrates,  if  you  will 
promise  to  go  away,  and  never  return  again.” 

No.  In  obedience  to  the  will  of  God  I came,  and  in 
obedience  to  His  will  I will  now  remain,  faithful  unto  death.” 

The  executioner  performed  his  office,  and  Mary  Dyer  died 
the  death  she  had  sought,  as  though  it  was  the  greatest  bless- 
ing the  heart  could  desire.  In  her  own  view  she  was  thus 
enabled  to  surrender  her  life  to  the  . Lord. 

The  people  turned  away  from  the  Common,  sick  at  heart, 
wondering  if,  indeed.  Governor  Endicott  or  Mary  Dyer  was 
right,  or  both  alike  wrong. 

The  Quakers  who  were  executed  were  buried  in  an  en- 
closed place  ” on  the  Common.  If  we  knew  where  the  spot 
is,  we  would  tell  you.  We  think  it  was  near  the  place  of  the 
Old  Elm. 


OLD  ELM  AND  QUAKERS’  GRAVES. 


Of  !Hf 
Of 


iLimuiS 


No  one  is  so  accursed  by  fate, 

No  one  so  utterly  desolate, 

But  some  heart,  though  unknown, 
Responds  unto  his  own.” 


CHAPTER  VII 


WHEREIN  ARE  RELATED  SOME  STORIES  OF  A NER- 
VOUS DISEASE,  CALLED  WITCHCRAFT. 


The  belief  in  witches  was 
common  in  Europe  at  the 
time  of  the  early  settlement 
of  the  towns  of  New  Eng- 
land. The  Puritan  fathers 
brought  it  with  them,  and 
the  severity  of  their  lives 
and  the  awful  mysterious- 
ness of  the  forests,  peopled 
by  wild  men,  and  made 
perilous  by  wild  beasts, 
favored  the  impression  that 
there  were  spirits  of  evil  in 
the  air,  earth,  and  sea,  and 
in  the  very  hearts  of  men. 

The  strange  picture  at 
the  head  of  this  chapter 
WITCHES.  represents  not  a reality,  but 

the  unseen  world,  as  it  some- 
times appeared  to  the  Puritans’  disordered  fancy. 

Much  has  been  said  about  the  witchcraft  delusion  of  Bos- 
ton and  Salem,  as  though  it  was  a thing  peculiar  to  the 
colonies.  The  same  delusion  was  prevalent  in  both  England 
and  Scotland  at  the  same  time  as  in  New  England.  Witch- 


no  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

finding  became  a profession  in  England,  and  witch-finders 
were  regarded  as  people  of  remarkable  genius  and  spiritual 
insight,  and  the  office  was  held  in  honor. 

More  than  two  hundred  years  ago  there  lived  in  England  a 
rough,  brutal  old  man,  who  took  for  his  name,  Witch- 
Finder  General.’^ 

His  real  name  was  Matthew  Hopkins.  He  lived  when 
there  were  numerous  prosecutions  for  witchcraft  in  England, 
during  1645  1646. 

The  title,  by  which  he  was  generally  known,  indicates  the 
part  he  acted.  He  seems  to  have  been  a privileged  agent 
under  the  protection  of  the  government.  The  expenses  he 
incurred  in  travelling  over  the  country  were  paid  from  the 
public  treasury,  and  he  also  received  a specified  sum  for 
every  witch  he  found. 

You  may  be  certain  he  discovered  many,  when  such  en- 
couragement was  given  him. 

It  was  a favorite  practice  with  the  witch-finders  of  those 
days,  to  prick  the  body  of  the  suspected  person  with  some 
sharp  instrument,  like  an  awl  or  penknife,  to  find  the  witch- 
mark,”  as  it  was  called. 

Suspected  persons  were  obliged  to  have  their  bodies  pricked 
over  with  this  instrument,  by  those  chosen  for  the  purpose, 
and  if  a callous  or  hard  place  was  found,  which  was  most 
often  the  case  with  hard-working  or  aged  persons,  they  were 
at  once  condemned  as  witches. 

Does  not  Satan  always  make  his  mark  upon  those  who 
sell  themselves  to  him?”  argued  the  witch-finder. 

Hopkins  was  not  satisfied  with  this  test,  but  contrived 
others  far  more  cruel. 

For  instance,  he  compelled  his  aged  and  decrepit  victims 
to  sit  on  high  stools  with  their  limbs  crossed,  and  would  not 
allow  them  to  go  to  sleep  till  they  had  confessed  their  intimacy 
with  the  devil. 


1645. 


Stories  of  Witchcraft. 


Ill 


He  would  also  take  some  worn-out  old  man,  and  compel 
him  to  walk  barefoot  over  rough  ground  until  the  wretched 
victim  fell  dead  from  exhaustion  and  exposure. 

Hopkins’s  most  common  mode  of  torture  was  this  : having 
tied  the  thumb  of  the  right  hand  to  the  great  toe  of  the 
left  foot,  he  threw  the  miserable  victim  into  a pond  or 
river,  and  caused  her  to  be  dragged  to  and  fro.  If  the 
accused  persons  floated,  as  they  probably  would  in  this  posi- 
tion, he  said  it  was  proof  of  their  guilt.  If  they  sank,  they 
died  in  innocence.  It  must  have  been  a dreadful  misfor- 
tune to  incur  the  suspicion  of  such  a man. 

It  has  been  said,  on  good  authority,  that  he  caused  to  be 
put  to  death,  in  one  county  in  England,  in  one  year,  more 
than  three  times  as  many  as  suffered  at  Salem,  during  the 
whole  delusion,  half  a century  later. 

You  may  find  reference  to  this  monster,  Hopkins,  in  the 
following  lines  from  Butler’s  Hudibras  : — 

“ Has  not  this  present  Parliament 
A leiger  to  the  devil  sent, 

Fully  empowered  to  treat  about 
Finding  revolted  witches  out, 

And  has  he  not  within  a year 

Hanged  threescore  of  them  in  one  shire  ? ” 

His  success  was  accounted  for,  by  believing  that  in  an  en- 
counter with  Satan  he  had  wrested  from  him  his  private 
memorandum  book,  in  which  were  kept  the  names  and  ad- 
dresses of  those  in  his  employ. 

Among  those  put  to  death  was  an  aged  man  named  Lewis. 
He  had  been  a minister  of  the  Established  Church  for  fifty 
years,  and  was  over  eighty  when  he  was  brought  to  trial,  or 
rather  to  torture,  for  witchcraft. 

He  was  subjected  to  the  cruel  tortures  of  the  day,  even  to 
being  dragged  through  the  pond. 


1 1 2 Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

The  intrepid  old  man  maintained  his  innocence  through 
the  whole,  but  was  at  last  condemned  to  die  the  death  of  a 
felon,  without  the  rite  of  burial.  He  was  obliged  to  read  his 
own  burial  service  on  the  scaffold. 

Imagine  this  old,  gray-haired  minister  standing  on  the  fatal 
drop,  about  to  be  launched  into  eternity,  repeating,  with 
tremulous  voice,  the  simple  but  beautiful  words  of  his  own 
funeral  service. 

The  witch-finder  at  last  came  to  a miserable  end.  He 
was  himself  accused  of  being  a wizard.  He  was  seized  one 
day  and  tied,  just  as  his  many  victims  had  been,  and  dragged 
through  a pond.  Subjected  to  his  own  test,  he  sank,  and 
that  was  the  end  of  his  long  career  of  deception  and  wicked- 
ness. 

These  facts,  which  we  gather  from  a curious  article  on  Hop- 
kins, are  more  dark  and  cruel  than  anything  that  happened 
in  Salem,  although  even  there  an  innocent  man  was  pressed 
to  death  with  weights  because  he  would  not  acknowledge 
himself  to  be  a wizard. 

In  June  (15th),  1648,  the  first  execution  for  witchcraft 
took  place  in  Boston.  The  victim  was  Margaret  Jones.  For 
her  good  offices  in  trying  to  heal  the  diseases  of  the  people, 
she  fell  under  suspicion  and  was  hung.  She  was  a doctor, 
and  dealt  in  roots  and  herbs.  We  are  told  that  her  medicines 
had  extraordinary  violent  effects,”  not  an  uncommon  re- 
sult of  the  use  of  botanic  remedies.  It  was  thought  she  had 
bewitched  them.  If  she*  used  lobelia  or  like  plants  freely  in 
her  prescriptions,  as  most  ^Hoot  and  herb  doctors”  did  in 
those  days,  we  can  easily  see  that  the  patients  could  hardly 
have  believed  that  anything  growing  out  of  the  earth  could 
produce  such  surprising  effects.  We  are  further  told  that  she 
would  tell  certain  persons  that  they  could  never  be  healed, 
and  these  always  grew  worse.  The  same  influence  is  quite 
noticeable  to-day.  Quacks  succeed  because  they  assure  the 


WITCHCRAFT  AT  SALEM  VILLAGE. 


Of  m 


’.TERSUY  Of 


(LISW 


1648. 


Margaret  yones. 


115 


patient  of  the  cure.  The  imagination  acting  powerfully  on 
the  nervous  system  is  one  of  the  surest  means  of  healing  or 
destruction. 

After  she  had  been  imprisoned,  we  are  told  that  a little 
child  was  seen  to  run  from  her  into  another  room,  and,  being 
followed  by  an  officer,  vanished.”  But  this  foolish  story  was 
not  all.  At  her  trial  she  told  the  witnesses  against  her  that 
they  lied,  — an  awful  instance  of  depravity.  She  was  ad- 
judged a witch,  of  course.  How  could  such  witnesses  lie? 

But  the  trouble  that  these  foolish  accusations  made  did  not 
end  with  the  victim.  Her  husband,  disheartened  at  the  loss 
of  his  wife,  took  passage  for  Barbadoes.  The  ship  lay  in  the 
harbor.  One  day  she  began  to  ^Holl,”  in  calm  weather;  the 
effect  of  some  undercurrent,  perhaps.  The  sailors  'said  that 
it  was  bewitched,  and  attributed  it  to  the  ghost  of  poor  Mar- 
garet. The  magistrates  had  Mr.  Jones  arrested  and  impris- 
oned, after  which  the  ship  was  quiet.  Margaret’s  ghost  must 
have  possessed  wonderful  physical  power  to  cause  a ship  to 
^Holl.” 

Most  extraordinary  things  were  believed  of  witches.  They 
could  do  anything  through  the  power  of  the  devil,  who  was 
their  servant.  On  the  day  of  the  execution  of  Margaret 
Jones  in  Boston,  there  'was  a tempest  in  Connecticut,  a not 
uncommon  thing  in  June,  and  this  was  attributed  to  either 
the  wrath  of  the  devil  at  the  execution,  or  his  joy  at  securing 
poor  Margaret’s  soul. 

If  the  reader  will  visit  the  Public  Library  and  read  Cotton 
Mather’s  ^^Magnalia,”  he  will  be  amazed  at  the  stories  of  gross 
superstition  he  will  there  find.  How  any  man  of  intelligence 
could  have  for  a moment  credited  such  things  as  are  there 
stated  is  a mystery  hard  to  explain.  To  Mather’s  fancy  un- 
seen evil  spirits  followed  men  like  an  army,  and  life  was  a 
deadly  contest  with  dark  inhabitants  of  the  air. 

From  time  to  time  a supposed  example  of  witchcraft  dis^ 


1 16  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

turbed  the  peace  of  the  colonies.  In  1692  the  delusion 
known  as  the  Salem  witchcraft  began,  and  spread  like  a dis- 
ease. Among  the  victims  were  a number  of  unfortunate  peo- 
ple of  Boston. 

THE  STORY  OF  OLD  GOODY  GLOVER. 

In  1688  the  children  of  Mr.  John  Goodwin  began  to  be- 
have very  strangely.  Their  bodies  were  drawn  out  of  shape, 
as  in  a case  of  rickets.  Their  tongues  were  sometimes  drawn 
in  out  of  sight,  and  at  other  times  thrust  out  of  their  mouths. 
They  evidently  suffered  from  some  nervous  disease  that  spreads 
by  imitation. 

They  meived  Y&Jt  cats,  and  barked  like  dogs.  We  are  told 
that  they  flew  through  the  air  like  geese,  which  would  indeed 
have  seemed  a proof  of  actual  witchcraft  if  the  statement  had 
ended  here.  But  it  is  added,  their  toes  barely  touched  the 
ground.”  They  did  touch  the  ground,  you  may  be  sure,  and 
the  flying  part  was  all  in  the  excited  fancy  of  the  witnesses. 

The  parents  said,  ^^The  children  are  bewitched.” 

They  called  in  excitable  old  Cotton  Mather,  whose  love  of 
the  marvellous  exceeded  anything  in  colonial  history.  One 
of  the  children  played  a number  of  ungracious  pranks  upon 
him,  as  she  found  little  difficulty  in  doing. 

She  would  read  the  Prayer-Book,  but  could  not  be  induced 
to  read  the  Bible,  as  though  the  Prayer-Book  were  for  the 
most  part  anything  but  the  Bible  rearranged  for  public  service. 
This  pleased  Cotton  Mather,  who  was  violently  opposed  to 
Episcopalianism,  for  he  thought  it  indicated  the  manner  in 
which  the  devil  regarded  the  two  books,  which  was  quite  in 
accordance  with  his  own  views. 

When  the  credulous  minister  showed  his  ^^Food  for  Babes,” 
a religious  book  that  he  highly  commended,  and  of  course 
immensely  superior  in  his  own  view  to  the  Book  of  Common 


COTTON  MATHER. 


. -H' 


M: 


1 688.  The  Story  of  Goody  Glover.  119 

Prayer,  the  child  became  silent.  We  do  not  wonder  at 
this.  The  bewigged  doctor  was  greatly  pleased,  and  thought 
it  an  uncommon  compliment,  — did  it  not  indicate  the  great 
displeasure  of  the  devil  with  his  Food  for  Babes  ”? 

The  ministers  of  Boston  and  Charlestown  held  a fast  at  the 
house  where  the  bewitched  ” children  lived,  and  one  of  the 
sufferers  pretended  to  find  relief  from  the  occasion. 

There  was  an  infirm  old  woman  in  the  town,  called  Goody 
Glover.  She  was  a Catholic,  and  the  Puritans  regarded  Cath- 
olics with  as  much  disfavor  as  the  Catholics  were  wont  in 
earlier  times  of  history  to  regard  them. 

This  weak  old  woman  had  offended  Dame  Goodwin,  and 
what  more  natural  solution  of  the  mystery  could  there  be  than 
that  Goody  Glover  was  a witch  ? 

^^She  used  threatening  language  to  me,^’  said  Dame  Good- 
win. 

Here  was  evidence  indeed.  Goody  Glover  was  arrested. 

She  was  taken  to  jail,  and  her  house  was  searched. 

They  found  dreadful  things  there,  — those  magistrates. 
There  were  images,  or  puppets,  made  of  rags  and  covered 
with  fur. 

They  brought  these  into  the  court-room. 

She  acknowledged  that  they  were  the  implements  of  the 
devil.  She  said  that  she  had  only  to  stroke  the  fur  on  one 
of  these  rag  babies,  and  something  evil  would  happen. 

She  took.up  one  of  them,  and  drew  her  hand  across  it,  and 
just  then  one  of  the  children  who  was  present,  and  who  ex- 
pected something  evil  to  happen,  fell  down  in  a fit. 

Poor,  weak,  old  woman  ! They  told  her  she  was  a witch, 
and  she  believed  it.  She  confessed  everything  they  wanted 
her  to  confess,  even  to  an  alliance  with  the  Evil  One. 

Have  you  any  one  standing  by  you  now?  ” asked  one  of 
the  magistrates. 

No,”  said  she,  peering  into  the  air ; he  is  gone.” 


1 20  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

Who  is  gone? ” 

My  prince.’^ 

^'What  prince?” 

'^The  Evil  One.” 

Witnesses  can  always  be  found  to  testify  against  one  ac- 
cused of  crime. 

At  the  trial  a witness  appeared,  by  the  name  of  Hughes. 
He  testified  that  six  years  before  Goody  Glover  had  be- 
witched a woman  to  death. 

He  was  asked  how  he  knew. 

I have  myself  seen  Goody  Glover  come  down  the  chim- 
ney of  the  house  where  the  woman  lived.” 

Goody  Glover  received  little  pity  for  her  gray  hairs  after 
such  testimony  as  that.  Mather  says  he  prayed  with  her,  and 
adds,  If  it  were  a fault  it  was  an  excess  of  pity.”  We  fear 
an  excess  of  pity”  was  not  one  of  Dr.  Mather’s  besetting  sins. 

Goody  Glover  was  condemned  and  hung.  We  fancy  we 
see  her  now,  the  poor  old  creature,  followed  by  a jeering  mob, 
and  stretched  up  by  her  neck  under  the  fair  green  leaves  of 
the  great  tree  on  the  Common.  And  this  in  oiir  city  only 
about  two  hundred  years  ago. 

The  children  continued  to  suffer  after  Goody  was  buried. 
Mather  took  one  of  them  home  with  him.  He  tells  us  that 
an  invisible  horse  was  brought  to  her,  and  that  she  would 
ride  on  it  about  the  room,  and  on  one  occasion  rode  upstairs. 
Just  how  large  a horse  it  could  have  been  to  have  carried  a 
child  up  a flight  of  stairs  in  an  old-time  house  he  does  not 
state.  It  was,  however,  an  invisible  horse.  Probably  the 
child  in  her  nervous  paroxysms  pretended  to  canter  about, 
after  the  manner  of  children  at  play.  And  her  motion  sug- 
gested the  horse  to  the  Doctor’s  vivid  imagination,  when  it 
became  to  him  a horse  indeed. 

Cotton  Mather  regretted  the  part  that  he  had  acted  in  the 
witchcraft  delusion  before  he  died.  But  he  said  he  was  sincere 


MARTHA  COREY  AND  HER  PERSECUTORS 


Libh^f^y 
Of  iHt 

d^lVERStif  Of  iUil^UIS 


i688.  The  Delusion  brought  to  an  End.  123 

in  his  belief  at  the  time  of  his  errors,  and  that  he  did  what  he 
thought  to  be  his  duty  as  a conscientious  man. 

During  the  prevalence  of  this  moral  disease,  nineteen  per- 
sons in  the  colony  were  hanged ; one  was  pressed  to  death ; 
one  hundred  and  fifty  were  thrown  into  prison,  and  some  two 
hundred  accused. 

One  Martha  Corey,  when  visited  in  prison  by  Mr.  Parris 
and  other  clergymen,  rebuked  her  persecutors  in  language  of 
terrible  sternness,  and  was  excommunicated  before  being 
hanged.  Mary  Easty,  who  is  said  to  have  been  a woman  of 
deep  piety,  and  of  a very  sweet  disposition,  conscious  of  her 
innocence,  firmly  denounced  the  cruelty  and  falseness  of  the 
testimony  upon  which  she  and  others  had  been  condemned 
to  death,  and  petitioned  her  judges  and  the  ministers  to  make 
further  inquiry,  not  into  her  own  case,  but  into  those  of  the 
others,  that  no  more  innocent  blood  might  be  shed,  for,  said 
she,  I know  you  are  in  the  wrong  way.” 

You  will  ask,  What  brought  it  to  an  end?” 

In  the  beginning,  only  the  poor,  the  infirm,  and  unfor- 
tunate were  accused  of  witchcraft.  As  the  delusion  spread, 
people  in  better  estate  began  to  be  accused.  At  last  the 
governor’s  wife^  was  accused.  Every  household  then  was 
filled  with  terror. 

The  magistrates  began  to  whisper  among  themselves. 

Some  of  our  families  may  be  accused.” 

Then  they  began  to  doubt  if,  indeed,  there  were  witches. 

What  credit  is  to  be  given  to  the  spectre  testimony?  ” was 
asked  in  the  court  one  day,  after  the  leading  families  began  to 
be  in  danger. 

None  whatever,”  said  the  judge. 

If  this  had  been  the  decision  at  the  beginning,  no  one 
would  have  been  sacrificed.  It  was  spectre  testimony  that 
produced  these  evils,  and  nothing  else. 


1 Mrs.  Phipps. 


1 24  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

When  this  spectre  testimony  began  to  threaten  the  homes  of 
the  magistrates,  the  executions  for  witchcraft  ceased. 

The  sad  story  of  witchcraft  in  New  England  shows  that 
good  men  may  entertain  wrong  opinions,  and,  if  their 
opinions  are  wrong,  their  conduct  will  be  wrong.  Men  of 
greater  virtue  than  these  magistrates  never  lived.  Each  of 
them  would  have  sacrificed  his  life,  rather  than  have  done  an 
act  of  dishonor.  Like  Saul,  when  persecuting  the  church, 
they  thought  they  were  maintaining  truth. 

In  ancient  times  in  the  Hebrew  nations  there  were  witches. 
They  dealt  in  poisons  ; they  had  familiar  spirits  ; ” they  en- 
gaged in  dark  plots ; were  the  accessaries  of  crime,  and  thus 
dangerous  to  the  community.  The  Bible  said  to  the 
Hebrews  : Suffer  not  a witch  to  live.'’  Endicott  and  his 
followers  attempted  to  govern  the  colony  by  the  Levitical 
law.  They  misinterpreted  the  Scripture.  They  applied 
Suffer  not  a witch  to  live  ” to  any  unfortunate  old  creature 
whom  an  enemy  or  child  might  accuse.  They  did  it  all  to 
sustain  a pure  morality.  It  was  a terrible  error.  Never  do 
anything  for  the  cause  of  virtue  or  religion,  the  influence  of 
which  is  against  virtue  and  religion,  and  if  you  must  act 
severely  for  the  sake  of  justice,  be  sure  your  opinions  are 
correct. 


THE  OLD  ELM  ON  BOSTON  COMMON. 

Among  the  historic  trees  in  this  country,  perhaps  none  have 
had  so  great  prominence  as  the  Old  Elm  on  Boston  Com- 
mon, on  which,  it  is  supposed,  condemned  witches  were 
hung.  It  was  almost  the  only  well-preserved  living  relic  of 
early  colonial  times,  and  historically  was  as  famous  as  the 
Royal  Oak  was  in  England.  Boston  Common,  on  which  it 
stood,  is,  even  apart  from  its  historic  associations,  one  of  the 
most  delightful  places  in  New  England. 


THE  OLD  ELM. 


tUi«UU) 


1631. 


The  Old  Elm. 


127 


It  is  full  of  quiet  beauties,  with  its  shaded  walks,  play- 
ground, deer-park,  fountains,  birds,  and  grand  old  trees. 

Some  of  these  trees  antedate  the  city’s  charter.  They  were 
planted  by  hands  that  long  ago  crumbled  to  dust ; and  the 
Old  Elm  broke  ground  while  Boston  was  yet  Shawmut,  an 
Indian  village,  situated  on  three  bare  hills,  with  the  smoke- 
wreaths  of  its  conical  wigwams  crowning  their  summits. 
This  was  the  Great  Tree,  as  it  was  called  one  hundred  years 
ago,  but  was  afterwards  known  as  the  Old  Elm. 

It  grew  green  in  spring,  and  golden  in  autumn,  through  all 
the  green  springs  and  golden  autumns  of  New  England’s  early 
history.  The  tree  was  the  true  American  elm,  so  much  ad- 
mired for  its  spreading  shade,  its  massive  foliage,  and  drooping, 
roof-like  limbs.  It  was  seventy- two  feet  high,  and  twenty- three 
feet  six  inches  in  circumference  at  the  base. 

This  cherished  relic  stood  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  Com- 
mon, at  the  edge  of  the  rising  ground,  where  was  placed  the 
old  Liberty  Pole,  of  historic  fame.  It  was  surrounded  by  an 
iron  fence,  on  the  gate  of  which  is  the  following  inscrip- 
tion : — 

“ This  tree  has  been  standing  here  for  an  unknown  period. 
It  is  believed  to  have  existed  before  the  settlement  of  Boston^ 
being  full  grown  in  ij22.  Exhibited  7narks  of  old  age  in  1792, 
and  was  nearly  destroyed  by  a storm  in  1832.  Protected  by  an 
enclosure  in  1854. 

“J.  V.  C.  Smith,  Mayor.” 

Near  where  the  Old  Elm  stood  is  the  Frog  Pond,  also  of 
historic  fame.  It  does  not  look  now  as  it  did  when  the 
British  soldiers  were  encamped  in  the  vicinity,  and  the 
delegation  of  young  Americans  waited  upon  General  Hal- 
dimand,  and  laid  before  him  the  story  of  their  wrongs.  It 
is  now  surrounded  by  a granite  margin,  and  is  shaded  by 
young  trees.  In  the  pleasant  summer  and  autumn  weather  a 
spreading  fountain  throws  its  sparkling  jets  of  water  far  above 


128  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

its  surface.  But  in  winter  it  is  still  a skating  pond,  as  in  the 
old  Revolutionary  days. 

On  the  rising  ground  near  the  Old  Elm  stood  the  old 
Powder-house.  There  also  was  fought  the  first  duel  in  Bos- 
ton. The  victim  of  the  unfortunate  combat  was  a young 
man,  twenty  years  of  age,  whose  grave  may  yet  be  seen  in 
Granary  Burying-ground,  near  the  Tremont  House.  His 
antagonist  fled  to  Rochelle,  France,  where  he  died  of  a 
broken  heart. 

The  historical  associations  of  the  Old  Elm  would  fill  a 
volume,  like  that  of  Hawthorne’s  Grandfather’s  Chair,” 
and  a very  interesting  volume  it  might  be  made. 

Shawmut,  the  Indian  name  of  the  promontory  on  which 
a part  of  Boston  stands,  was  very  barren  of  trees.  The  Old 
Elm,  being  the  most  conspicuous  tree  in  the  time  of  our  fore- 
fathers, was  used  for  the  purpose  of  executions.  Tradition 
tells  us  that  Indian  prisoners  were  executed  there. 

The  story  of  the  Indian  wars  does  not  form  a part  of 
the  history  of  Boston.  The  town  was  never  attacked  by 
the  Indians.  But  the  people  were  often  terrified  by  the 
massacres  of  the  settlers  by  the  Indians  in  other  places, 
and  in  neighboring  towns.  Hostile  Indians  were  sometimes 
believed  to  be  approaching,  but  such  reports  were  false  alarms. 

But  while  Boston  did  not  suffer  from  the  Indians,  many 
noted  Indians  were  brought  here  for  execution.  Philip’s 
great  warrior,  Annawon,  was  one  of  these. 

We  have  no  space  to  tell  all  of  the  interesting  historical 
traditions  of  the  Indian  troubles  which  are  associated  with  the 
old  tree.  The  stories  of  old  Matoonas,  of  Sagamore  Sam,  and 
the  Sagamore  Quabaog,  are  among  the  most  interesting  of  an 
early  date. 

The  story  of  old  Jethro  is,  perhaps,  less  known  than  most 
of  the  others  that  have  been  related  in  connection  with  the 
ancient  elm.  This  Indian  was  among  the  first  to  attach  him- 


A FALSE  ALARM, 


V\BF 


1674. 


The  Story  of  Old  yeth'o. 


131 


self  to  the  interests  of  the  English  at  Boston.  He  possessed 
more  than  ordinary  intelligence.  Under  the  teaching  of  the 
English,  he  professed  to  have  embraced  Christianity,  and 
associated  himself  with  the  praying  men  of  his  tribe.  His 
Indian  name,  Tantamous,  was  changed  by  the  colonists  after 
he  became  associated  with  them. 

In  1674  he  was  appointed  missionary  to  the  Nipmucks, 
living  at  Weshakin,  since  Sterling. 

On  Sunday,  Aug.  22,  1675,  ^^e  colony  was  startled  by 
the  murder  of  a family,  consisting  of  a man,  his  wife,  and  two 
children,  at  Lancaster.  It  was  evident  that  the  deed  had  been 
done  by  Indians ; and  the  praying  Indians,  of  whom  old 
Jethro  was  one,  fell  under  suspicion.  Captain  Mosely,  their 
principal  accuser,  found  much  suspicion  against  them  for 
singing,  dancing,  and  having  much  powder  and  many  bullets 
and  slugs  hid  in  their  baskets.’^ 

For  this  offence,  eleven  of  them,  among  whom  was  old 
Jethr®,  were  sent  to  Boston  to  be  tried. 

Captain  Mosely  seems  to  have  been  a stern  man,  who  used 
relentlessly  the  ordinary  modes  of  torture  common  in  those 
days.  One  of  the  Indians,  named  David,  he  bound  to  a tree. 
Then  guns  were  levelled  at  him,  and  his  life  was  threatened, 
unless  he  made  a full  confession.  The  Indian,  to  save  his 
life,  accused  the  praying  Indians”  of  the  murder,  and 
among  them  was  old  Jethro. 

There  is  an  island  near  Boston,  dividing  the  sea  as  it 
flows  into  the  harbor,  called  Deer  Island,  and  to  this  the  ac- 
cused Indians  were  sent.  A short  time  after  the  real  per- 
petrator of  the  Lancaster  murder  was  discovered,  and  the 
complete  innocence  of  the  praying  Indians”  proved.  They 
were  released,  and  it  will  hardly  accord  with  our  modern 
ideas  of  penalty  when  we  state  that  David,  who  had  made 
the  false  confession  to  save  his  life,  was  sold  into  slavery  as 
a punishment  for  the  act. 


132  Young  Folks  History  of  Bosto7t. 

About  a year  afterward  the  Indian  hostilities  were  resumed, 
and  the  English  resolved  to  send  the  praying  Indians/^ 
among  the  most  prominent  of  whom  was  old  Jethro,  to  Deer 
Island,  both  for  their  own  security  and  to  keep  them  away  from 
any  temptation  to  join  the  enemy.  The  men  who  were  sent 
to  take  them  to  the  island  were  very  overbearing  in  their  con- 
duct, and  so  insulted  old  Jethro  that  he  escaped  while  on  the 
way,  and  fled  into  his  native  wilds.  His  hiding-place  was  at 
last  discovered  to  the  English  by  his  own  son,  Peter  Jethro, 
an  act  which  caused  Increase  Mather  to  say,  that  abomi- 
nable Indian,  Peter  Jethro,  betrayed  his  own  father  unto 
death.” 

Old  Jethro  was  captured  and  brought  to  Boston.  He  was 
tried  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 

It  was  Sept.  26,  1676,  when  the  first  colorings  of  au- 
tumn were  on  the  leaves.  The  Old  Elm  then  stood  at  the 
end  of  the  town,”  near  the  waters  of  the  Charles  River, 
whose  marshes,  covered  deep  with  earth,  are  now  oc(iupied 
by  costly  houses.  The  tree  was  in  its  full  strength  and  beauty 
then,  and  we  can  imagine  its  low  branches,  with  their  tinged 
leaves,  spreading  themselves  over  the  lonely  hollow.  Here 
old  Jethro  was  hanged,  according  to  tradition. 

During  the  Revolution  effigies  of  Tories  were  hanged  upon 
the  branches  of  the  tree.  A young  tree  has  been  planted  on 
the  spot  where  the  Old  Elm  stood,  and  stands  in  the  same 
enclosure. 

It  is  not  certain  that  all  the  executions  that  old-time  stories 
associate  with  the  tree  actually  took  place  there.  Other  trees 
may  have  been  used  for  such  a purpose,  and  there  seems  to 
have  been  a gallows  erected  there  during  the  colonial  period. 
Of  this  we  shall  give  a sad  story  in  another  chapter. 


INCREASE  MATHER, 


0?  IHt 


\IUH01S 


“Here  rest  the  great  and  good,  — here  they  repose 
After  their  generous  toil.  A sacred  band, 

They  take  their  sleep  together,  while  the  year 
Comes  with  its  early  flowers  to  deck  their  graves, 

And  gathers  them  again,  as  winter  frowns. 

Theirs  is  no  vulgar  sepulchre,  — green  sods 
Are  all  their  monument ; and  yet  it  tells 
A nobler  history  than  pillared  piles, 

Or  the  eternal  pyramids.  They  need 

No  statue  nor  inscription  to  reveal 

Their  greatness..  It  is  round  them  ; and  the  joy 

With  which  their  children  tread  the  hallowed  ground 

That  holds  their  venerated  bones,  the  peace 

That  smiles  on  all  they  fought  for,  and  the  wealth 

That  clothes  the  land  they  rescued,  — these,  though  mute 

As  feeling  ever  is  when  deepest,  — these 

Are  monuments  more  lasting  than  the  fanes 

Reared  to  the  kings  and  demigods  of  old.” 

J.  G.  Percival. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


WHEREIN  IS  SHOWN  HOW  THE  COLONY  BECAME  A 
PROVINCE. 

The  picture  on  the  next  page  represents  one  of  the  most 
popular  governors  under  the  charter  that  the  colony  ever 
had,  — John  Leverett.  He  was  governor  from  1673  1^7^? 

and  he  rendered  efficient  aid  to  Plymouth  Colony  in  the  strug- 
gle with  the  Indians,  known  as  King  Philip’s  War.  He,  too, 
was  born  in  Old  Boston,  and  was  one  of  the  congregation  of 
St.  Botolph’s.  He  returned  to  England  for  a time  during  the 
Commonwealth,  and  was  on  intimate  terms  with  Cromwell. 
His  house  stood  at  the  corner  of  Court  and  Washington 
Streets,  where  tlie  Sears  Building  now  stands. 

In  1679  there  was  a great  fire  in  Boston.  Eighty  dwelling- 
houses  and  seventy  warehouses  were  consumed.  The  peo- 
ple now  began  to  build  of  brick.  Some  of  these  brick  houses 
at  the  North  End  may  still  be  seen. 

Perhaps  you  would  like  a view  of  some  of  the  houses  of 
Boston  during  the  early  colonial  period.  Here  is  the  old 
Feather  Store,  built  in  1680,  and  taken  down  in  i860.  It 
stood  in  Dock  Square. 

There  is  a very  ancient  wooden  house  in  Salem  Street, 
which  at  the  time  we  write  (1881)  may  still  be  seen. 

About  the  year  1676,  just  one  hundred  years  before  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  the  people  of  Massachusetts 
Bay  Colony  began  to  be  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  losing 
their  charter,  and  with  it  their  liberties. 


138  Young  Folks  History  of  Bos  toil, 

Charles  II.  was  now  on  the  throne.  He  had  been  pro- 
claimed king  in  Boston  in  1661  with  much  public  ceremony. 
A writer  of  the  times  thus  describes  the  scene  : After  our 


. GOVERNOR  LEVERETT. 


ordinary  lecture,  the  soldiers  being  all  in  arms,  viz.,  our  four 
companies  and  the  country  troop,  the  magistrates  mounted 
on  horseback,  the  ministers  being  present,  and  a great  num- 
ber of  people.  King  Charles  II.  was  proclaimed  by  Edward 


THE  OLD  FEATHER  STORE. 


Of 

iJKIVERSfll  Of 


llUHOfS 


i66i. 


Charles  II. 


141 


Rawson,  secretary  of  state,  all  standing  with  uncovered  heads, 
and  ending  with  ‘ God  save  the  king.’  The  guns  in  the 
castle,  fort,  and  on  the  ships  were  fired,  and  the  chief  officers 
feasted  thgt  night  at  the  charge  of  the  country.” 


Jk  ^ ' 

CHARLES  II. 

The  people  under  the  charter  were  very  independent. 
They  elected  their  own  governor  and  members  to  the  General 
Court,  and  the  government  of  the  colony  was  but  little  differ- 


142  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

ent  from  that  of  the  state  to-day.  The  colonists  were  sub- 
jects of  the  English  Crown  in  name,  but  in  reality  were  the 
masters  of  their  own  public  affairs. 

Under  the  reign  of  Charles  11.  an  attempt  was  made  to 
impose  the  ’English  laws  of  trade  upon  the  colony.  The 
magistrates  resisted.  They  said  : Such  acts  are  an  invasion 
of  the  colony’s  rights,  since  we  are  7iot  represented  in  par- 
liament.'' Thus  was  begun  the  resistance  to  a government 
without  representation,  which  in  one  hundred  years  resulted 
in  the  independence  of  the  colonies. 

In  1680  King  Charles  gave  the  province  of  Maine  to  Sir 
Ferdinando  Gorges.  The  government  of  Massachusetts  soon 
afterwards  purchased  it  of  Gorges,  thus  exercising  the  right  of 
an  independent  power.  This  brought  the  colony  under  the 
displeasure  of  the  king. 

About  this  time  there  appeared  a man  in  the  colony  whom 
the  people  came  to  hate.  Hawthorne  has  given  a very  dark 
picture  of  him  in  the  Legends  of  the  Province  House.” 
Perhaps  you  may  like  to  take  down  from  your  library  shelf 
Twice  Told  Tales,”  and  read  in  this  connection  Edward 
Randolph’s  Portrait.” 

Randolph  has  been  called  the  evil  genius  of  New  Eng- 
land.” He  was  an  enemy  to  the  Puritan  idea  of  government, 
a firm  friend  of  King  Charles,  and  he  crossed  the  ocean  again 
and  again,  bearing  evil  reports  to  the  king,  and  making  mis- 
chief as  often  as  he  came  and  went.  Randolph  made  many 
complaints  to  the  king,  but  some  of  them  were  reasonable. 
He  said  the  Puritans  tolerated  no  religion  but  their  own,  and 
that  they  had  even  enacted  a law  against  the  observance  of 
Christmas. 

The  controversy  was  a long  one.  The  colonists  would  not 
surrender  their  rights  under  the  charter.  Said  Increase 
Mather,  one  of  the  principal  men  of  the  colony  : If  we 
make  a submission,  we  fall  into  the  hands  of  men  ; but  if  we 


SIR  EDMUND  ANDROS. 


^:r  ■ 


Of  fHt 

Uf^lVERSllt  Of  iLimOlS 


1685.  How  the  Colony  became  a Province,  145 

do  not,  we  still  keep  ourselves  in  the  hand  of  God.”  The 
king  sent  commissioners  to  the  colony,  but  their  authority  was 
ignored.  In  his  remonstrance  against  the  treatment  of  his 
commissioners,  the  king  said : In  opposition  to  our  au- 
thority, it  was  proclaimed  by  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  within 
the  town  of  Boston  that  the  General  Court  was  the  Supreme 
yudicature  in  that  Province  I'"  It  was,  certainly,  the  wish  of 
the  colony  that  the  General  Court,  or  Legislature,  should  be 
the  governing  power. 

The  king,  finding  his  efforts  to  regulate  the  affairs  of  the 
colony  under  the  old  charter  fruitless,  at  last  lost  patience, 
and  determined  to  take  the  charter  away.  He  sent  Randolph 
to  Boston  with  a letter,  which  thus  pronounced  the  doom  of 
liberty.  He  said  : We  are  fully  resolved  in  Trinity  term 
next  ensuing,  to  direct  our  Attorney- General  to  bring  a Quo- 
Warranto  in  our  Court  of  King’s  Bench,  whereby  our  charter 
granted  unto  you,  with  all  the  powers  thereof,  may  be  legally 
evicted  and  made  void.  And  so  we  bid  you  farewell.” 

In  1684  the  charter  of  Charles  L,  which  had  left  the  govern- 
ment of  the  colony  almost  wholly  to  the  people,  was  rolled  up 
and  put  away,  a precious,  but  worthless,  piece  of  parchment. 

What  next? 

Charles  II.  died  on  the  6th  of  February,  1685.  He  has 
been  called  the  Merry  Monarch.”  His  life  was  de- 
voted to  pleasure.  It  is  said  that  when  the  Dutch  fleet  was 
threatening  the  very  gates  of  London,  sailing  proudly  up  the 
Thames,  the  king  was  attending  a party  at  Lady  Castlemaine’s, 
and  was  amusing  his  favorites  by  chasing  a moth  that  had 
strayed  into  the  house. 

James  11.  succeeded  Charles.  He  was  a Catholic.  Pro- 
testant England  had  little  love  for  him,  and  New  England 
had  none;  but  it  was  under  him  that  Massachusetts  wii 
compelled  to  tolerate  all  religious  beliefs.  Strange  as  it  may' 
seem,  it  was  thus  that  the  Episcopal  Church  sprang  into  life 
in  Boston. 


146  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

James  appointed  a provisional  government  for  the  colony, 
and  commissioned  Joseph  Dudley  as  president.  Dudley  was 
soon  succeeded  by  Sir  Edmund  Andros,  who  was  appointed 
viceroy  of  all  the  New  England  colonies.  He  was  a haughty, 
brusque,  choleric  man,  bigoted,  and  determined  to  crush  out 
the  spirit  of  independence  in  New  England,  wherever  it  might 
be  found. 

The  Boston  people  hated  Andros,  and  were  ripe  for  revolt. 
Early  in  the  spring  of  1689  news  was  received  that  William, 
Protestant  Prince  of  Orange,  who  had  married  the  Princess 
Mary,  had  landed  in  England,  and  driven  James  from  the 
throne.  Boston  was  filled  with  joy,  and  Andros  was  smitten 
with  chagrin.  He  issued  a proclamation,  charging  the  people 
to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  resist  any  forces  that  the 
Prince  of  Orange  might  send.  But  the  people  raised  a com- 
pany of  men  for  quite  a different  purpose.  These  seized 
Andros,  and  made  him  their  prisoner.  King  William  soon 
ordered  that  Andros  and  Randolph  should  be  sent  to  Eng- 
land, and  the  people  were  glad  to  have  them  go. 

In  1692  a new  charter  was  granted  the  colony,  and  Sir 
William  Phips  was  appointed  governor  by  the  Crown. 

* Under  the  new  charter,  the  governor  was  to  be  appointed 
by  the  king,  and  he  was  to  have  the  appointment  of  all  mili- 
tary officers.  The  General  Court  was  to  be  elected  by  the 
people,  as  formerly,  but  the  governor  could  prorogue  it,  and 
no  act  was  to  be  valid  without  his  consent.  No  money 
could  be  paid  from  the  public  treasury  except  upon  his  war- 
rant, approved  by  his  council.  This  new  charter  brought  the 
government  of  the  colony  directly  under  the  power  of  the 
king. 

So  the  colony  became  a province,  and  thus  remained  for 
nearly  one  hundred  years. 

This  is  a sad  history,  and  this  chapter  is  not  an  interesting 
one.  We  hope  you  may  find  the  next  more  entertaining. 


GOVERNOR  ANDROS  A PRISONER, 


“ ’T  IS  sweet  to  remember ! When  storms  are  abroad, 

We  see  in  the  rainbow  the  promise  of  God : 

The  day  may  be  darkened,  — but  far  in  the  west, 

In  vermilion  and  gold,  sinks  the  sun  to  his  rest ; 

With  smiles  like  the  morning  he  passeth  away  : 

Thus  the  beams  of  delight  on  the  spirit  can  play, 

When  in  calm  reminiscence  we  gather  the  flowers 
Which  Love  scattered  round  us  ih  happier  hours.” 

W.  G.  Clark. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


WHEREIN  ARE  TOLD  SOME  STORIES  OF  OLD  COLONY 
TIMES. 

In  few  communities  have  such  marvellous  stories  been 
told  as  in  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Colony  in  the  days  of 
John  Cotton  and  the  Mathers.  The  reader  will  readily 
believe  this  if  he  will  consult  Mather’s  Magnalia,”  or  the 
Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World.”  But  these  stories,  for 
the  most  part,  were  associated  with  Indians,  ghosts,  and 
awful  judgments.  Many  families  had  escapes  from  Indians 
to  relate.  All  had  their  ghost  stories.  Instead  of  the  Ara- 
bian Nights  ” wonder  tales,  or  fairy  stories,  incidents  like  the 
Indian  attack  at  Bloody  Brook,  or  like  the  Salem  witches, 
made  the  young  shudder,  as  they  left  the  evening  fireside  for 
the  cold,  dark  chamber. 

There  were,  however,  some  fireside  stories  other  than  those 
of  Indians  and  ghosts.  We  give  a few  of  them  here. 

THE  STORY  OF  NIX’S  MATE. 

There  lies  a low,  black  island  in  the  harbor,  treeless, 
shrubless,  herbless.  There  is  no  green  thing  upon  it,  not 
so  much  as  a weed.  The  very  sea-mosses  seem  to  have 
forsaken  it.  The  sea  dashes  upon  it  incessantly,  wearing  it 
away,  and  it  seems  to  grow  blacker,  and  certainly  does 
become  smaller,  every  year. 


152 


Yoting  Folks  Flistory  of  Boston, 


The  excursionists  pass  it  on  the  bright  summer  days,  as  the 
gay  boats  drop  down  to  Nahant,  Nantasket,  Downer  Land- 
ing, Hull,  and  Hingham.  The  ocean  passengers  see  it  as 
they  leave  the  havened  waters,  dotted  with  islands,  for  the 
open  sea.  Strangers  look  at  the  black  pyramid  that  stands 
upon  it  and  warns  the  pilot,  and  ask,  — 

What  is  that?  ’’ 

^‘That,”  says  the  old  Bosto- 
nian, ‘‘  is  Nix’s  Mate.” 

The  stranger  thanks  his  in- 
formant, but  does  not  quite 
understand.  The  strip  of  rock 
and  the  pyramid  are  so  black 
and  so  mysterious,  that  they  hold 
his  eye,  as  the  boat  glides  on 
amid  the  summer  towns  and  the  green  isles  on  either  side. 

The  black  island  was  green  once,  like  other  islands  in  the 
harbor.  It  was  a place  of  execution  for  pirates.  The  island 
was  selected  for  this  purpose,  because  the  sea  robber,  dangling 
in  air,  in  his  chains,  could  be  seen  by  all  the  sailors  as  they 
passed  into  or  out  of  the  harbor.  It  must  have  been  a grim 
sight,  with  the  wind  whistling  around  the  gibbet. 

There  was  in  the  early  days  of  the  colony  a ship-master, 
named  Nix.  He  was  mysteriously  murdered,  and  his.  body 
was  buried  on  this  island,  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago, 
when  the  island  \(^as  green.  His  mate  was  accused  of  the 
murder,  and  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged.  He  declared 
his  innocence. 

When  the  time  for  execution  came,  he  said,  — 

I am  not  guilty  of  the  crime  with  which  I am  charged. 
Before  God,  I did  not  the  deed.  God  bear  witness  of  my 
innocence.  That  the  people  may  know  that  I am  a guiltless 
man,  may  this  island  wholly  disappear  ! ” 

He  was  executed,  and  soon  the  sailors  began  to  say,  — 


nix’s  mate. 


MASSACRE  AT  BLOODY  BROOK 


Of 

UNWERsn'f  uf 


iiimois 


1678.  The  Story  of  Rebecca  Rawson.  155 

^‘The  island  is  withering.  Nix's  mate  was  an  innocent 
man.” 

Time  passed,  and  the  people  said,  — 

''The  green  earth  has  been  washed  away,  and  only  the 
rocks  remain.  Nix’s  mate  was  surely  an  innocent  man.” 

A century  passed,  and  the  hard  rocks  themselves  seemed 
slowly  shrinking  away,  under  the  action  of  the  sea,  and  the 
old  story-tellers  told  the  new  generation  that  the  island  was 
disappearing,  as  a witness  to  the  innocence  of  Nix’s  mate. 

“ The  mate  murdered  Nix 
And  was  executed, 

And,  though  the  fact 
Seems  much  disputed, 

“ He  informed  his  friends 
Both  far  and  near. 

Were  he  innocent  the  island 
Would  disappear. 

The  island  is  gone; 

And  the  mate  is  free 
Of  this  cruel  charge 
Made  by  history. 


THE  STORY  OF  REBECCA  RAWSON. 

The  Puritan  communities  had  their  romances  that,  as  in  the 
case  of  gayer  societies,  became  fireside  tales.  The  Charlotte 
Temple  of  Boston,  although  her  history  has  never  been  made 
the  subject  of  a popular  novel,  was  Rebecca  Rawson. 

Her  father,  Edward  Rawson,  was  a distinguished  man  in 
the  colony,  and  was  for  a long  time  secretary  to  the  General 
Court.  For  thirty-six  years  his  name  appears  in  all  the  prin- 
cipal legal  affairs  of  the  colony.  He  died  in  1693. 

He  lived  on  a pleasant,  green  street,  called  Rawson’s  Lane. 
It  is  now  Bromfield  Street. 


156  Yoimg  Folks  History  of  Bo st07z. 

To  his  home  the  noblest  men  in  the  colony  came,  and  there 
the  most  eminent  visitors  from  abroad  were  sometimes  enter- 
tained. 

It  was  a pleasant  neighborhood.  Near  it  was  the  Winthrop 
House,  where  the  Old  South  Church  now  stands,  with  its 
beautiful  garden  and  flowing  spring.  The  stately  mansion, 
afterwards  bought  for  the  Province  House,  was  near,  with  its 
broad  yard  and  bowery  trees.  The  new  King’s  Chapel,  then 
a wooden  building,  was  but  a few  steps  away,  and  where  are 
now  blocks  and  warehouses,  on  Tremont  and  Washington 
and  Winter  and  School  Streets,  were  green  lawns,  and  behind 
the  fine  houses  rose  three  hills,  two  of  which  have  since  been 
almost  levelled,  and  cast  into  the  sea,  to  make  new  land. 

Secretary  Rawson  had  a daughter,  who  was  the  delight  of 
his  home.  Her  name  was  Rebecca.  She  was  famous  for  her 
loveliness  and  accomplishments.  She  received  great  attention 
from  society,  and  young  men  sought  her  hand  in  marriage. 

Sometime  about  the  year  1678  there  came  to  the  colony  a 
fascinating  young  man,  who  said  he  was  the  nephew  of  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Hale,  of  England.  He  claimed  to  be  a knight, 
and  was  known  as  Sir  Thomas  Hale.”  He  was  invited  to 
the  house  of  the  Colonial  Secretary,  and  there  met  the  lovely 
Rebecca.  He  pretended  to  be  enamored  of  her,  and  she  re- 
turned his  proffered  affection  with  girlish  trust  and  simplicity. 

There  was  much  rejoicing  in  the  town  when  the  wadding 
of  Sir  Thbmas  ” and  Rebecca  Rawson  was  announced.  All 
were  glad  that  the  Secretary’s  beautiful  daughter  was  to  be 
connected  with  the  wealthy  and  powerful  English  family. 

Secretary  Rawson,  as  was  the  custom  of  wealthy  men  of  the 
period,  gave  the  bride  a rich  outfit.  Full  of  happiness,  and 
with  the  most  glowing  anticipations,  Rebecca  left  with  her 
husband  for  England. 

The  ship  had  no  sooner  arrived  in  London  than  the  bride- 
groom disappeared.  The  endowment  that  the  Colonial 


CHARLES  CHASING  THE  MOTH. 


0^ 


iLLiWUli 


t6g2.  The  Story  of  Rebecca  Rawson.  159 

Secretary  had  bestowed  upon  his  daughter,  to  make  her 
suited  to  her  high  position,  was  carried  away  by  him.  Rebecca 
Rawson  found  herself  among  strangers,  deserted,  and  with 
the  dreadful  suspicion  she  had  been  deceived. 

Days  of  grief  and  crushing  disappointment  followed.  She 
found  that  the  man  whom  she  had  married  was  not  a knight 
at  all,  but  a mere  adventurer,  and  that  he  had  a deserted  wife 
still  living  in  Canterbury. 

A child  was  born  to  her.  Hope  almost  faded  out  of  her 
young  life.  Her  beauty  withered,  but  her  youthful  pride 
remained. 

Should  she  return  to  Boston?  No  ; she  said  in  her  heart 
she  could  not  do  that.  She  could  not  meet  her  family  and 
old  friends,  with  the  story  of  her  great  disappointment. 

The  abandoned  wife,  and  the  daughter  of  the  rich  and 
honored  Provincial  Secretary,  determined  to  support  herself 
and  child  by  the  industry  of  her  own  hands.  She  was  skilled 
in  needlework  and  painting,  and  by  these  arts  she  liv^d  for 
some  thirteen  years. 

But  the  memory  of  her  old  home  in  the  bowery  town 
haunted  her ; the  thought  of  her  father,  whose  hair  was  now 
whitening  with  years,  led  her  affections  back  over  the  sea. 
She  resolved  to  return. 

She  embarked  for  Boston  in  a ship  bound  thither  by  the 
way  of  the  West  Indies.  She  arrived  safely  at  Port  Royal,  in 
Jamaica.  Being  ready  to  proceed  on  the  voyage,  the  ship 
again  was  preparing  to  spread  sails  to  the  winds. 

It  was  a day  in  June,  1692.  The  sun  had  arisen,  glim- 
mering in  splendor  over  the  thin  mists  of  the  ocean.  Suddenly 
a subterranean  thundering  began.  The  crust  of  the  earth  was 
upheaved  and  shaken.  There  was  a great  vortex  in  the  sea, 
and  into  this  the  ship  was  drawn,  and  went  down  to  deeps 
unknown.  Such  was  the  melancholy  history  and  sad  end  of 
Rebecca  Rawson.  Her  father  died  soon  after  receiving  the 


i6o  Young  Folks  Histo7y  of  Boston. 

news  of  the  loss  of  the  ship  in  the  great  earthquake  at 
Jamaica. 

THE  FIRST  DUEL. 

Some  years  ago  we  used  to  linger  in  summer-time  under 
the  delicious  shade  of  the  old  Paddock  elms  that  once  stood 
on  Tremont  Street,  in  front  of  an  ancient  historic  enclosure, 
called  the  Granary  Burying-ground.  The  sights  and  scenes 
of  the  city  were  new  to  us,  and  we  loved  to  watch  the  tide 
of  travel  that  incessantly  poured  through  the  busy  avenue. 

Near  the  iron  fence  stands  an  old  gravestone,  whose  in- 
scription can  be  read  from  the  street,  and  that  used  to  be  not 
unfrequently  deciphered  by  people  waiting  for  the  horse-cars, 
under  the  elms.  It  is  as  follows  : — 

'-'‘Here  lies  the  body  of  Benja^nin  Woodbridge.,  son  of  Hon. 
Dtidley  Woodbridge.,  who  died  fnty  3,  1728,  in  the  twentieth 
year  of  his  agei’’ 

We  have  already  alluded  to  young  Woodbridge.  He 
was  the  son  of  a wealthy  gentleman  in  Barbadoes,  and  was 
sent  to  Harvard  College  to  be  educated.  He  seems  to  have 
had  an  ardent,  kindly  nature,  spirited,  social,  and  keenly  sus- 
ceptible to  friendship.  He  had  an  intimate  friend  by  the  name 
of  Samuel  Phillips,  a graduate  of  the  college,  and  connected 
with  the  best  colonial  families. 

Never  did  life  open  with  fairer  prospects  before  two  young 
men.  But  their  warm,  social  nature  led  them  to  the  gaming- 
table, and  gambling  to  the  free  use  of  wine,  and  tlieir  lives 
were  suddenly  eclipsed  by  an  act  that  sent  a thrill  of  excite- 
ment and  terror  through  the  town  of  Boston. 

A dispute  arose  between  them,  and  young  Phillips  killed 
Woodbridge  in  a duel  on  Boston  Common,  on  a summer’s 
night  in  July,  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 


1676. 


JoJm  ShcnJia7t, 


161 


Phillips,  conscience-smitten,  fled  to  Rochelle,  France, 
that  charming  city  of  the  waters.  He  sought  to  gratify  his 
aesthetic  taste  amid  historic  scenes ; but  neither  the  refine- 
ments of  art  nor  the  morning  and  evening  splendors  of  the 
bay  could  efface  the  memory  of  the  stain  of  blood.  He 
died  of  a broken  heart  exactly  one  year  from  the  death  of 
his  victim. 

The  Puritans  made  mistakes  at  times,  but  their  principles 
were  in  the  main  correct.  Had  that  young  man  learned  the 
principles  of  the  good  people  about  him,  and  practised  them, 
his  gravestone  would  have  had  a different  date.  We  have 
often  recalled,  as  we  have  seen  a young  man  beginning  a 
course  of  dissipation,  this  solitary  grave  here,  and  another 
in  far  Rochelle. 


JOHN  SHENHAN. 

A STORY  OF  1676. 

“ O Johnny,  my  boy,  be  spry  ! Don’t  you  see 
The  morning  sun  hangs  o’er  the  vale  of  the  I.ee  ? 

Hear  the  birds  singing  sweet  in  the  tops  of  the  trees, 
And  the  bells  of  old  Cork  swinging  light  in  the  breeze. 

0 Johnny,  O Johnny,  you  are  dear  unto  me, 

But  an  idler  lad  ne’er  was  seen  on  the  Lee.” 

“O  mither,  ne’er  mind,  for  my  spirit  is  bold, 

And  I’m  going  away  to  the  country  of  gold. 

1 long  on  the  breast  of  the  billows  to  rock. 

And  sink  in  the  ocean  the  harbor  of  Cork. 

O mither,  be  aisy,  for  soon  you  will  see 

Of  me  nothing  more  in  the  vale  of  the  Lee.” 

“ O Johnny,  be  steady,  and  listen  no  more 
To  the  tales  that  they  tell  in  the  inn  on  the  shore. 

Be  honest  and  steady,  and  you  will  find  gold 
In  Ireland’s  soil.  My  boy,  I am  old. 

My  hair  is  fast  changing  ; hey,  boy,  don’t  you  see  ? 
Oh,  stay  wi’  me  here  in  the  vale  of  the  Lee.” 


II 


i62 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 


He  sat  with  his  mother  that  eve  ’neath  the  tree, 

The  moon  lianging  low  on  the  wave  of  the  Lee. 

“ Oh,  stay  wi’  me,  boy,  and  ne’er  mind  the  gold  ! ” 

“ I’ll  come  back  to  ye,  mither,  to  cheer  ye  when  old.'’ 
He  kissed  her  next  morn  on  an  ocean-swept  rock, 

And  sunk  in  the  ocean  the  harbor  of  Cork. 

He  worked  a hard  passage  across  the  wide  main, 

Till  hilltops  arose  from  the  ocean  again,  — 

Till  a town  in  the  wilderness  glanced  on  the  seas 
From  three  beautiful  heights  overshadowed  with  trees. 
He  hailed  the  new  land  with  a shout  of  delight. 

And  slept  in  the  inn  near  the  harbor  that  night. 

He  arose  the  next  morn  with  a gold -haunted  brain, 

He  walked  near  the  town  in  a sun-sprinkled  lane  ; 

He  saw  the  new  houses  uplifting  their  walls. 

And  the  cottages  cool  on  the  banks  of  the  Charles  ; 

And  he  saw,  dismal  sight ! with  a shudder  of  pain, 

The  gallows  that  hung  mid  the  trees  in  the  lane. 

He  at  last  met  a Puritan,  stately  and  old. 

And  asked  him  the  way  to  the  region  of  gold. 

“By  the  sweat  of  thy  brow,”  the  grave  Puritan  said, 
And  he  looked  on  the  boy  with  a shake  of  the  head. 
And  all  that  he  questioned  the  same  story  told 
Of  the  Puritan  way  to  the  region  of  gold. 

Time  passed  ; he  worked  hard,  with  a resolute  will. 

But  felt  the  sharp  pinches  of  poverty  still. 

His  language  was  thick  ; they  were  loath  to  employ 
At  wages,  like  others,  the  poor  Irish  boy. 

And  Jo'hnny  grew  heavy  at  heart  in  the  end. 

And  wished,  but  in  vain,  fora  pitying  friend. 

'T  was  June  — a calm  night  — the  moon  hung  o’er  the  w 
Of  the  houses  that  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Charles. 

It  silvered  the  lane  and  the  pastures  beyond  ; 

It  silvered  the  roses  that  margined  the  pond  ; 

It  silvered  the  ringlets  of  Johnny’s  light  hair. 

As  he  sat  ’neath  the  elm  in  the  cool  summer  air. 


OLD  TIME  COURTESIES. 


Of  fHf 

oi^iVERsny  m iaiNois 


1676. 


John  Shenhan, 


165 


O Johnny  Shenhan,  what ’s  the  matter  with  thee  ? 

Are  thy  thoughts  far  away  on  the  banks  of  the  Lee  ? 

Oh,  why  dost  thou  start  at  each  step  passing  by  ? 

And  why  does  that  stealthy  look  fall  from  thy  eye  ? 
fie  leans  his  young  brow  on  his  trembling  palms, 

And  hears  in  the  distance  the  music  of  psalms. 

He  creeps  towards  a house,  — it  stands  on  the  hill, 

The  windows  are  open,  the  rooms  are  all  still. 

On  the  top  of  the  desk  there  are  papers  unrolled. 

In  the  till  of  the  desk,  it  may  be,  there  is  gold. 

He  climbs  through  the  casement,  he  opens  the  till, 

Then  flies  like  a ghost  o’er  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

Gold  ! gold  ! he  has  gold,  but,  his  innocence  gone, 

Sleep  flies  from  his  eyes  and  he  trembles  till  morn. 

He  has  gained  what  was  never  a Shenhan’s  before, 

He  has  lost  what  eternity  cannot  restore. 

No  lad  in  the  town  is  as  wretched  as  he. 

He  wishes  him  back  in  the  vale  of  the  Lee. 

When  the  moonlight  again  on  the  summer  trees  fell. 

It  reached  not  poor  Johnny,  — he  lay  in  a cell. 

He  was  brnught  into  court,  the  men  held  their  breath, 

While  the  judge  pronounced  slowly  his  sentence,  — ’t  was  death  ! 
He  stood  like  one  smitten,  tears  rolled  from  his  face 
And  he  bitterly  said  as  he  turned  from  the  place,  — 

“ My  sentence  is  hard,  oh,  how  dreadful  to  bear  ! 

But,  sheriff,  ’tis  less  for  myself  that  I care 

Than  for  her  who  looks  out  from  the  ocean-swept  rock 

For  the  sails  that  come  home  to  the  harbor  of  Cork  ! 

Oh,  the  ships  will  come  back  o’er  the  foam-covered  sea. 

But  bring  not  her  boy  to  the  vale  of  the  Lee  ! ” 

’T  was  autumn,  — a coolness  came  down  with  the  breeze. 

The  gold  and  vermilion  hung  light  on  the  trees. 

The  scaffold  was  ready,  — it  stood  where  to-day 
The  boys  of  the  city  have  freedom  to  play, 

O’erlooking  the  Common,  o’erlooking  the  pond, 

O’erlooking  the  river  that  rippled  beyond. 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 


1 66 

A multitude  gathered,  as  people  now  go 
To  see  the  odd  sights  at  a fair  or  a show, 

And  Johnny  was  brought,  — he  looked  on  the  air, 

And  the  river  that  rolled  in  the  full  sunlight  there, 

He  looked  on  the  faces  upturned  like  a sea, 

And  his  thought  wandered  back  to  the  vale  of  the  Lee. 

‘‘Forgive  me,”  he  said,  and  the  tears  gathered  fast 
When  he  saw  that  the  hour  of  man’s  mercy  was  past, 
“Though  just  is  the  sentence  my  error  receives, 

’T  is  hard  to  die  thus  while  a poor  mother  lives. 

The  ships  will  return  o’er  the  fair  sunny  sea. 

And  a heart  will  be  broke  in  the  vale  of  the  Lee.” 


ELDER  BREWSTER’S  CHAIR. 


“ What  constitutes  a state? 

Not  high-raised  battlements,  or  labored  mound, 

Thick  wall,  or  moated  gate ; 

Not  cities  proud,  with  spires  and  turrets  crowned. 
Not  bays  and  broad-armed  ports. 

Where,  laughing  at  the  storm,  proud  navies  ride; 

Not  starred  and  spangled  courts. 

Where  low-browed  baseness  wafts  perfume  to  pride ! 
No  ! — men^  — high-minded  men,  — 

Men  who  their  duties  know. 

But  know  their  rights,  and,  knowing,  dare  maintain.” 


. ^ 

■ L J 


Of  fHf 

lis^ivuisin  Of  iLiif^uiS 


CHAPTER  X. 


WHEREIN  IS  GIVEN  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  TIMES 
OF  THE  ELEVEN  ROYAL  GOVERNORS  AND  OF  THE 
OLD  PROVINCE  HOUSE. 


These  were  the  days  of  Queen  Anne  and  the  Georges. 

The  democratic  governors  of  the  golden  age  of  the  charter 
were  gone,  — Winthrop,  Sir  Henry  Vane,  Dudley,  Endicott, 
Haynes,  Bellingham,  Leverett, — and  with  them  the  republi- 
canism of  half  a hundred  years.  A new  period  of  growth  and 
prosperity  was  at  hand,  but  with  it  came  a struggle  against 
the  encroachments  of  a foreign  power,  that  lasted  nearly  a 
century  before  blood  was  spilt.  It  was  a brilliant  period  of 
progress,  education,  thrifty  industry,  and  religious  develop- 
ment, — that  of  the  eleven  royal  governors. 

These  governors  were  : — 


Sir  William  Phips, 

Richard,  Earl  of  Bellomont, 
Joseph  Dudley, 

Samuel  Shute, 

William  Barnet, 


Jonathan  Belcher, 
William  Shirley, 
Thomas  Pownall, 

Sir  Francis  Bernard, 
Thomas  Hutchinson, 


Gen.  Thomas  Gage. 


The  period  of  growth  under  political  repression,  during 
which  the  colony  was  subject  to  the  vice-regal  power  of 
these  eleven  governors,  lasted  from  1692  to  the  Revolution, 
or  more  than  eighty  years.  It  began  under  the  reign  of 


1 70  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

William  and  Mary,  and  continued  through  the  reigns  of  Queen 
Anne,  George  I.,  George  IL,  and  a part  of  that  of  George 
III. 

The  first  of  these  governors  had  a very  wonderful  history. 

THE  STORY  OF  SIR  WILLIAM  PHIPS,  AND  HIS  GREAT  GOOD 
FORTUNE. 

William  Phips  was  a poor  boy.  . He  rose  to  eminence  by 
energy  of  character,  but  was  helped  by  a series  of  fortunate 
circumstances  that  make  his  life  read  like  a romance  in  which 
some  magic  power  leads  an  ambitious  adventurer  to  caverns 
of  gold. 

The  first  statement  to  be  made  in  his  biography  is  different 
from  any  other  we  have  ever  seen.  He  was  one  of  a family 
of  twenty-one  sons,  and  of  twenty-six  children  born  to  the 
same  mother.  Families  were  very  large  in  old  colony  times. 
His  father  was  James  Phips,  -a  blacksmith,  and  an  early 
settler  in  the  woods  of  Maine.  He  little  dreamed  while 
working  to  support  his  large  family  in  the  wilderness  of  the 
Kennebec  that  one  of  his  sons  would  become  the  first  man 
in  the  country  in  wealth  and  position,  and  wear  the  star  of 
knighthood. 

William  was  born  Feb.  2,  1651,  and  soon  after  his  birth 
his  father  died.  We  know  nothing  about  the  other  members 
of  the  family  except  their  astonishing  number.  He  tended 
sheep  amid  wolves  and  savages  until  he  was  eighteen  years 
of  age,  and  his  education  was  confined  to  the  stories  of  the 
foresters  alone. 

But  he  had  in  him  that  restless  energy  which,  rightly  di- 
rected, leads  to  success.  He  learned  how  to  build  coasters 
on  the  Kennebec,  and  he  began  to  make  voyages  in  them. 
It  was  a profitable  business,  and  proved  the  beginning  of  the 
great  shipbuilding  industry  of  Maine. 


QUEEN  ANNE. 


0 

UHWtKbtn  * 


1692.  The  Story  of  Sir  William  Phips,  173 

Young  Phips  now  began  to  hear  of  the  great  world, 
and  to  have  visions  of  wealth  and  greatness.  He  came 
to  Boston  at  the  age  of  twenty- two.  Here  he  learned  to 
^ead  and  to  write  his  name.  He  married  a widow  who  had 
once  been  in  comfortable  circumstances,  but  had  lost  her 
property. 

‘‘Never  you  mind,”  he  said,  “we  will  have  a fair  brick 
house  in  the  Green  Lane  of  North  Boston  some  day.” 

The  Green  Lane  was  the  Beacon  Street  of  Boston  then. 

He  went  back  to  Maine  and  engaged  in  shipbuilding. 
Sailors  told  him  exciting  stories  of  sunken  treasures  in  the 
Spanish  Main.  One  of  these  stories  of  a sunken  treasure- 
ship  was  known  to  be  true. 

Could  she  not  be  recovered? 

Could  he  not  recover  her  ? 

If  so,  wealth  untold  would  be  his  ! 

Dreaming  of  gold  he  went  to  London  and  applied  to  the 
Admiralty  for  the  use  of  an  eighteen-gun  ship,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  bringing  up  the  lost  treasure-ship.  It  was  granted 
him.  He  went  to  Bahama.  From  an  old  Spaniard  he 
learned  the  precise  spot  where  the  galleon  had  foundered 
nearly  a half-century  before.  This  was  the  only  fruit  of  his 
first  voyage. 

He  returned  to  England  full  of  glittering  visions  and  asked 
for  a better  outfit.  The  Duke  of  Albemarle  provided  him 
with  vessels.  In  this  voyage  he  beheld  in  reality  the  prize  of 
the  sea.  He  fished  up  its  bullion  from  the  rocks  to  the  value 
of  more  than  $1,500,000,  in  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones. 
He  returned  to  England  in  triumph,  and  was  hailed  as  a 
hero.  He  was  knighted.  Lady  Phips  was  presented  with 
a gold  cup  worth  $5,000. 

He  was  made  governor  of  the  Colony  of  Massachusetts  in 
1692,  and  he  and  Lady  Phips  did  indeed  occupy  a “ fair 
brick  house  in  the  Green  Lane.” 


1 74  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

In  1697  Richard  Coote,  Earl  of  Bellomont,  an  Irish  peer, 
was  appointed  governor.  He  came  to  Boston  at  the  close  of 
the  century,  in  1699.  New  England  contained  a population 
of  about  seventy-five  thousand  at  this  time.  He  was  a.^ 
popular  governor.  He  died  in  1701. 

He  was  succeeded  by  Joseph  Dudley,  son  of  Thomas 
Dudley  of  the  times  of  Winthrop.  He  was  an  unpopular  gov- 
ernor. He  had  difficulties  with  the  Mather  family,  and  came 
to  be  held  in  general  ill  esteem.  Having  been  intimate  with 
Andros  and  Randolph,  he  was  believed  to  be  too  fully  in 
sympathy  with  the  English  policy  of  denying  the  rights  of  the 
people  to  shape  the  government  of  their  own  affairs.  He 
tried  to  compel  the  General  Court  to  pay  him  a salary,  which 
it  refused  to  do.  The  Court  had  made  the  former  governors 

presents,”  and  as  they  had  been  very  accommodating,  these 
presents  had  been  liberal.  To  the  Earl  of  Bellomont  had  been 
given  ^1,875.  Court  allowed  Dudley  but  £600  a 

year.  Governor  Shute,  who  succeeded  him,  was  even  less 
appreciated,  for  he  was  allowed  but  £^^^0. 

The  royal  governors  occupied  the  Province  House,  a stately 
mansion  with  a broad  lawn  filled  with  noble  trees,  which  stood 
nearly  opposite  the  Old  South  Church.  The  builder  and  first 
occupant  of  this  house  was  Mr.  Peter  Sergeant,  a wealthy 
London  merchant,  who  came  to  Boston  in  1667.  It  was 
built  of  brick,  was  three  stories  high,  with  a gambrel  roof  and 
conspicuous  cupola. 

In  1716  the  authorities  purchased  this  house  for  2, 3 00, 
and  it  was  fitted  up  with  great  elegance.  Here  the  governors 
held  their  vice-regal  court.  The  royal  arms,  carved  in  deal 
and  gilt,  crowned  the  wide  portico.  Here,  at  the  official  re- 
ceptions, ladies  shone  in  silk  and  satin,  and  gentlemen  in 
purple  and  scarlet  embroidered  with  gold.  Up  the  great 
staircase  in  military  boots  the  new  governor  strode,  and 
looked  out  from  the  high  cupola  over  a most  picturesque  part 


THE  PROVINCE  HOUSE. 


■ ■ -^  . ■.'•■,■  ■■-■;'/■ 
■ . ", 


v# 


V 


1706. 


Benjamm  Franklin, 


177 


of  the  pleasant  province.  In  the  great  court  below  the  mili- 
tary were  from  time  to  time  reviewed.  The  royal  arms  that 
were  placed  above  the  door  may  still  be  seen  in  the  rooms  of 
the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  the  old  vane,  which 
was  a gilded  Indian,  forms,  or  has  formed,  a part  of  the  his- 
torical collection  in  the  Old  South  Church.  Hawthorne’s 
Stories  of  the  Old  Province  House,”  giving  views  of  the 
beautiful  ladies,  provincial  warriors,  and  proud  royalists  who 
once  attended  its  festivals,  are  masterpieces  of  fiction,  and 
perhaps  the  most  elegant  ever  written  by  a New  England 
author. 

After  the  evacuation  of  Boston  by  the  British  this  house 
was  used  for  the  public  business  of  the  colony. 

Governor  Shute  came  to  dwell  here  in  1716.  Here  came 
Governor  Burnet,  son  of  the  celebrated  Bishop  Burnet  the 
historian,  escorted  to  the  door  by  a cavalcade.  Mather 
Byles  composed  a poem  for  the  pompous  reception,  full  of 
soaring  metaphors.  The  festivities  on  the  occasion  cost  the 
treasury  1,100. 

The  royal  governors  worshipped  in  King’s  Chapel,  where 
was  a state  pew  with  canopy  and  drapery.  The  first  King’s 
Chapel  was  built  of  wood  about  the  year  1689,  at  the  time  of 
Andros.  As  the  colonists  would  not  sell  the  unpopular  gov- 
ernor land  for  the  purpose  of  a church,  he  used  one  corner 
of  the  public  burying-ground.  The  corner-stone  of  the  pres- 
ent King’s  Chapel  was  laid  by  the  brilliant  Governor  Shirley 
Aug.  II,  1749.  Governor  and  Lady  Shirley,  who  died  at 
Dorchester,  were  entombed  under  the  church. 

The  first  newspaper  in  America  was  published  in  1 704.  It 
was  called  the  Boston  News-Letter, 

Benjamin  Franklin,  the  most  eminent  American  philoso- 
pher of  the  eighteenth  century,  was  born  in  Boston,  Jan. 
17,  1706.  His  birthplace  was  on  Milk  Street,  where  the 
Boston  Post  building  now  stands.  The  tomb  of  the  Franklin 


12 


1/8 


Young  Folks'  Histoiy  of  Boston. 


family  is  the  most  conspicuous  in  the  Granary  Burying-ground, 
near  Park  Street  Church,  and  may  be  seen  from  the  street. 
Benjamin  was  the  fifteenth  of  seventeen  children.  “ I re- 
member,” he  says,  “ thirteen  children  sitting  at  one  time  at 
the  table.”  He  was  baptized  on  the  day  of  his  birth  in  the. 
Old  South  Church.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he  was  apprenticed 


FRANKLIN. 


to  his  brother,  who  was  a printer.  He  had  a great  thirst  for 
learning,  and  read  constantly.  Among  the  boy’s  books  were 
Addison’s  Spectator,”  then  just  published,  Locke  on  the 
‘^Understanding,”  and  Xenophon’s  “Memorabilia,”  which 
were  quite  unlike  the  boys’  books  of  to-day.  When  he  was 
fourteen  years  of  age  his  brother  established  the  New  Eng- 


king’s  chapel,  tremont  street. 


✓ 


^ >>>' 


s# 


1730-  Franklins  Industry,  i8i 

land  Courant,  the  second  newspaper  in  Boston,  and  fourth  in 
America,  and  he  himself  carried  it  to  the  subscribers. 

He  wrote  poetry,  and  was  ambitious  to  contribute  articles 
to  the  paper.  As  he  feared  that  his  brother  did  not  appreci- 
ate his  literary  abilities,  he  tucked  certain  contributions  under 
the  door  of  his  shop,  which  James  Franklin  thought  so  good 
that  he  printed  them,  not  knowing  from  whom  they  came. 
James  was  much  offended  when  he  discovered  their  author- 
ship. He  never  treated  Benjamin  well,  and  he  used  some- 
times to  beat  him.  Determined  to  be  free  from  so  arbitrary 
a master,  Benjamin  went  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  ultimately 
established  a printing  press  of  his  own.  He  had  a hard  expe- 
rience in  youth,  but  he  once  said  in  regard  to  such  disci- 
pline, A good  kick  out  of  doors  is  worth  all  the  rich  uncles 
in  the  world.’’ 

A STORY  OF  franklin’s  EARLY  STRUGGLE  FOR  SUCCESS. 

When  Benjamin  Franklin  opened  his  printing  office  in 
Philadelphia,  he  was  obliged  to  struggle  against  many  ad- 
verse circumstances. 

He  was  young  and  poor ; the  country  was  new,  and  the 
public  mind  was  unsettled,  and  two  printing  offices  of  estab- 
lished reputation  were  already  doing  a thriving  business  in 
the  place.  He  knew  that  he  must  succeed,  if  he  succeeded 
at  all,  by  honorable  dealing,  energy,  and  perseverance. 

There  lived  in  Philadelphia,  at  this  time,  a gentleman  of 
wealth  and  position  by  the  name  of  Samuel  Mickle.  He 
was  one  of  those* morose  persons  who  take  a most  dismal 
view  of  human  affairs,  and  go  about  prophesying  disaster  and 
ruin.  He  looked  upon  the  settlements  in  the  New  World 
as  failures,  and  expected  that  Philadelphia  would  speedily 
decline  and  return  to  the  primitive  wilderness. 

Having  plenty  of  leisure,  he  made  it  a sort  of  missionary 


1 82  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

work  to  disseminate  these  startling  opinions  and  to  warn 
those  who  were  prospering  in  a business  way,  and  those  who 
were  engaging  in  new  enterprises,  of  the  impending  doom. 

Hearing  that  young  Franklin  had  opened  a printing 
office,  he  concluded  to  make  him  a call,  and  accordingly 
appeared,  one  day,  at  the  door  of  the  new  establishment. 
Franklin’s  experience  in  business  had  not  been  promising 
thus  far,  and  his  view  of  the  future  was  anything  but  cheerful. 
His  face  brightened,  however,  as  he  saw  the  portly  old  gentle- 
man at  his  door,  and  noticed  his  elegant  and  courtly  bearing, 
thinking  that  he  might  have  come  with  proposals  for  work. 

Are  you  the  young  man  that  has  just  opened  a printing 
office  ? ” asked  Mr.  Mickle. 

Franklin  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

I am  sorry,  very  sorry,”  said  the  old  gentleman,  looking 
very  solemn,  and  speaking  in  a very  impressive  tone.  It 
must  be  an  expensive  undertaking,  and  your  money  will  all 
be  lost.  Don-t  you  know  Philadelphians  already  falling  into 
decay?  Most  of  its  business  men  are  obliged  to  call  their 
creditors  together.  I know,  as  an  undoubted  fact,”  he  con- 
tinued, with  great  emphasis,  ^Hhat  all  of  the  circumstances 
that  might  lead  one  to  think  otherwise,  such  as  the  erection 
of  new  buildings  and  the  - advanced  prices  for  rent,  are 
deceitful  appearances,  that  will  only  make  the  ruin  more 
sweeping  and  dreadful  when  it  comes  ! ” 

He  then  proceeded  to  illustrate  these  statements  by  detail- 
ing the  private  affairs  of  a number  of  individuals  into  whose 
business  he  had  been  prying. 

He  gave  me,”  says  Franklin,  so  long  a detail  of  mis- 
fortunes actually  existing,  or  about  to  take  place,  that  he 
left  me  almost  in  a state  of  despair.” 

Franklin,  however,  recovered  his  self-possession,  and  re- 
solved to  redouble  his  energy  and  to  work  as  he  never  had 
worked  before. 


GEORGE  I. 


vV'> 


1756.  Franklins  Success  as  a Printer,  185 

‘‘  The  industry  of  this  Franklin/’  said  Dr.  Bard,  at  a meet- 
ing of  the  Merchants’  Club,  not  long  after  the  occurrence  of 
the  incident  we  have  related,  is  superior  to  anything  of  the 
kind  I have  ever  witnessed.  I see  him  still  at  work  when  I 
return  from  the  club  at  night,  and  he  is  at  it  again  in  the 
morning  before  his  neighbors  are  out  of  bed.” 

The  success  of  Franklin  as  a printer  is  well  known,  and 
we  need  only  allude  to  it  here.  But  poor  Mr.  Mickle  ? 

He  continued,”  says  Franklin,  ^Ho  live  in  this  place  of 
decay,  and  to  declaim  in  the  same  style,  refusing  for  many 
years  to  buy  a house,  because  all  was  going  to  wreck ; and 
in  the  end  I had  the  satisfaction  to  see  him  pay  five  times 
as  much  for  one  as  it  would  have  cost  him  had  he  purchased 
it  when  he  first  began  his  lamentations.” 

Almost  every  young  man  of  enterprise  encounters  a Samuel 
Mickle.  To  such  the  example  of  Franklin  affords  a whole- 
some lesson. 


franklin’s  birthplace. 


A FLEET  with  flags  arrayed 
Sailed  from  the  port  of  Brest, 

And  the  Admiral’s  ship  displayed 
The  signal,  ‘ Steer  southwest/ 

For  this  Admiral  d’  Anville 
Had  sworn  by  cross  and  crown 
To  ravage  with  fire  and  steel 
Our  helpless  Boston  Town.” 

Longfellow. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  TIMES  OF  THE  ELEVEN  ROYAL  GOVERNORS  AND 
OF  THE  OLD  PROVINCE  HOUSE,  CONTINUED. 

The  Old  South  Church  was  erected  in  1729.  As  King’s 
Chapel  is  associated  with  the  royal  governors,  so  this  church 
gathers  historic  fame  from  all  the  great  episodes  of  the  strug- 
gle for  liberty.  It  became  the  church  of  the  people. 

In  1744  began  the  war  between  England  and  France 
known  as  King  George’s  War.”  The  colonies  entered  into 
it  by  preparing  an  expedition  against  Louisburg,  Cape  Breton, 
then  occupied  by  the  French.  The  contest  on  this  side  of 
the  water  was  called  Governor  Shirley’s  War.” 

The  fleet  of  the  expedition  sailed  from  Boston.  It  carried 
away  three  thousand  men.  Louisburg  was  regarded  by  the 
French  as  the  Gibraltar  of  America,  and  its  fortifications  cost 
some  five  million  dollars.  The  fleet  came  in  sight  of  Louis- 
burg April  30,  1745,  and  on  the  17th  of  June  the  besiegers 
compelled  its  surrender.  Joy  filled  the  colonies  over  this 
great  victory. 

The  joy  in  Boston,  however,  was  soon  changed  to  anxiety 
by  the  news  that  Admiral  d’  Anville  was  preparing  an  expe- 
dition at  Brest  for  the  destruction  of  the  town.  In  anticipa- 
tion of  the  attack  nearly  seven  thousand  men  were  placed 
under  arms  on  Boston  Common. 

It  was  September,  — the  Sabbath.  In  his  lofty  pulpit  in 
the  Old  South  Church  Rev.  Thomas  Prince  rose  to  pray  for 


1 90  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

deliverance  from  the  impending  danger.  While  he  was 
praying  a sudden  gust  of  wind  arose,  the  day  having  until 
now  been  clear  and  calm,  so  violent  as  to  cause  a loud 
clattering  of  the  windows.  The  pastor  paused  in  his  prayer, 
and,  looking  around  upon  the  congregation  with  a counte- 
nance full  ot  hope,  he  again  commenced,  and  with  great 
devotional  ardor  supplicated  the  Almighty  to  cause  that  wind 
to  frustrate  the  object  of  ^ our  enemies.’  A tempest  ensued, 
in  which  the  greater  part  of  the  French  fleet  was  wrecked  on 
the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia.  The  Duke  d’  Anville  committed 
suicide.” 

Longfellow  has  thus  paraphrased  Thomas  Prince’s  prayer, 
perpetuating  the  story  in  song  : — 

“ ‘ O Lord,  we  would  not  advise ; 

But  if  in  thy  providence 
A tempest  should  arise 
To  drive  the  French  fleet  hence, 

And  scatter  it  far  and  wide. 

Or  sink  it  in  the  sea. 

We  should  be  satisfied, 

And  thine  the  glory  be.’ 

‘ ‘ This  was  the  prayer  I made, 

For  my  soul  was  all  on  flame. 

And  even  as  I prayed 

The  answering  tempest  came  ; 

It  came  with  a mighty  power. 

Shaking  the  windows  and  walls. 

And  tolling  the  bell  in  the  tower 
As  it  tolls  at  funerals.”  ^ 

In  1734  a great  religious  awakening  under  the  powerful 
preaching  of  Jonathan  Edwards  began  in  New  England.  As 
by  one  impulse  people  turned  their  attention  to  their  spirit- 
ual concerns.  In  1 740,  while  Belcher  was  governor,  George 


1 Atlantic  Monthly^  *877. 


FANEUIL  HALL 


1740. 


George  Whitejield, 


193 


Whitefield  came  to  Boston.  He  was  welcomed  by  the  gov- 
ernor’s son,  a train  of  clergy,  and  principal  inhabitants.” 
No  church  would  hold  the  throngs  of  people  who  came  from 
all  quarters  to  hear  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  preach  on 
the  Common.  He  once  attempted  to  preach  in  the  Old 
South  Church,  but  such  a crowd  gathered  that  he  himself  was 
obliged  to  crawl  into 
the  house  by  the  win- 
dow. It  was  early  au- 
tumn. The  Common 
was  beautiful  with  its 
bright  tinted  trees.  Ten 
thousand  people  used 
to  gather  in  their  shade 
to  hear  the  matchless 
eloquence  of  the  Eng- 
lish evangelist.  He 
preached  his  farewell 
sermon  there  to  twenty 
thousand  people. 

Notwithstanding  the 
royal  governors,  this  I!! 
was  a bright,  happy 
period  of  history.  The 
city  was  kept  from 
hostile  attacks,  from 
disease,  and  every  great 
calamity,  and  she  grew  the  old  south  church. 

in  wealth,  prosperity, 

and  population,  and  in  the  determination  that  she  would  yet 
control  her  own  liberties  and  be  independent  and  free. 

There  were  many  elegant  residences  in  Boston  at  this  time. 
One  of  them  belonged  to  the  Faneuil  family.  It  was  on 
Tremont  Street,  opposite  the  King’s  Chapel  Burying-ground. 


194  Yotmg  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

It  had  a deep  court-yard  ornamented  with  flowers  and 
shrubs,  divided  into  an  upper  and  lower  platform  by  a high 
glacis,  surmounted  by  a richly  wrought  iron  railing,  decorated 
with  gilt  balls.  The  hall  and  apartments  were  spacious  and 
elegantly  furnished.  The  terraces,  which  rose  from  the 
paved  court  behind  the  house,  were  supported  by  massy 
walls  of  hewn  granite,  and  were  ascended  by  flights  of  steps 
of  the  same  material.” 

Andrew  Faneuil  was  a French  Protestant  or  Huguenot. 
He  escaped  to  Holland  after  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  which  destroyed  the  religious  privileges  of  the  Prot- 
estants in  France.  He  came  to  America  about  1691.  A 
church  of  French  Protestants  was  gathered  here,  and  Peter 
Daille,  whose  headstone  may  still  be  seen  in  the  Granary 
Burying-ground,  was  the  pastor.  Faneuil  and  Bowdoin  were 
leading  members. 

Peter  Faneuil  was  a nephew  of  the  French  pioneer,  and 
he  inherited  his  estate  and  wealth.  He  gave  to  the  city  the 
large  building  for  a market  that  became  known  as  Faneuil 
Hall.  At  the  first  town-meeting  held  in  the  hall  over  the 
market,  his  own  eulogy  was  pronounced,  he  having  died 
shortly  after  the  gift  (1742). 

The  funeral  oration  of  Peter  Faneuil  was  delivered  by 
John  Lovell,  master  of  the  Latin  School.  It  was  the  first  of 
a long  series  of  orations  delivered  in  Faneuil  Hall  on  Bos- 
ton’s public  men  as  the  by-gone  generation  of  patriots  and 
benefactors  one  by  one  disappeared.  It  was  printed  on  the 
town  records.  Near  the  close  appears  this  striking,  eloquent, 
and  almost  prophetic  passage  : — ■ 

What  now  remains,  but  my  ardent  wishes  that  this  hall 
may  be  ever  sacred  to  the  interests  of  truth,  of  justice,  of 
loyalty,  of  honor,  of  liberty. 

May  no  private  views  or  party  broils  ever  enter  within 
these  walls,  but  may  the  same  public  spirit  that  glowed  in  the 


REVOCATION  OF  THE  EDICT  OF  NANTES 


J 


V# 

OV 


4 


1741- 


The  Frankland  Mansion, 


197 


breast  of  the  generous  founder  influence  all  your  debates, 
that  society  may  reap  the  benefits  of  them. 

May  Liberty  always  spread  its  joyful  wings  over  this 
place  ! — Liberty,  that  opens  men’s  hearts  to  beneficence, 
and  gives  the  relish  to  those  who  enjoy  the  effects  of  it. 

‘‘And  may  Loyalty  to  the  King,  under  whom  we  enjoy 
this  liberty,  ever  remain  our  character.” 

This  was  the  town  hall,  — the  Hotel  de  Ville  after  the 
manner  of  European  cities.  The  town  showed  its  loyalty 
by  adorning  it  with  the  picture  of  George  11.  In  1761  it 
was  nearly  destroyed  by  fire;  it  was  rebuilt  1763-64.  In 
the  second  hall  Revolutionary  meetings  were  held..  A new 
hall  was  added  to  the  building  in  1805.  This  third  hall 
Webster,  Everett,  Choate,  Sumner,  and  Phillips  have  made 
famous  by  their  eloquence. 

For  the  following  account  of  another  colonial  mansion,  I 
am  indebted  to  a lady  who  copied  it  from  a verbal  descrip- 
tion by  a very  aged  member  of  her  own  family  : — 

“ Lord  Frankland’s  Palace  ” has  formed  the  theme  of 
many  writers,  and  his  romantic  history  has  been  a fruitful 
subject.  The  novelist  Cooper  visited  the  house  with  a 
grandson  of  Governor  Winthrop,  that  he  might  make  it  the 
scene  of  his  “ Lionel  Lincoln.”  Although  better  known  by 
the  name  of  Frankland,  the  house  was  built  by  Hon.  William 
Clark,  a wealthy  merchant,  whose  tomb  may  be  seen  in  the 
old  part  of  Copp’s  Hill  Burying- ground.  It  was  purchased 
from  him  by  Sir  Henry  Frankland,  who  in  1741  was  ap- 
pointed Collector  of  the  Port  of  Boston. 

Hither  it  was  that  he  brought  Agnes  Surriage,  a poor  girl 
of  Marblehead.  Her  beauty  attracted  Lord  Frankland  in 
one  of  his  visits  to  that  town,  as  he  saw  her,  barefooted 
and  poorly  clad,  passing  from  the  tavern  door  to  the  well 
for  water.  Upon  his  return  to  England  he  took  her  with 


igS  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

him.  His  wealthy  and  aristocratic  family  refused  to  notice 
her. 

They  travelled  extensively.  At  the  time  of  the  earthquake 
in  Lisbon,  in  1755,  she  was  the  means  of  saving  his  life. 
For  this  and  her  constancy  he  married  her,  and  from  hence- 
forth she  was  recognized  as  Lady  Frankland. 


Upon  one  of  the  attic  doors  in  the  old  house,  written  in  a 
childish  hand  with  something  resembling  chalk,  and  yet  which 
no  amount  of  scouring  would  efface,  were  the  words  : Isaac 
Surriage  is  a naughty  boy  and  deserves  a horse-jvhipping.’^ 
Who  was  Isaac  Surriage? 

He  was  a brother  of  Agnes,  some  years  younger.  One 
day  he  was  sent  by  the  captain  of  the  vessel  on  which  he 


1741* 


The  Frankland  Mansion, 


199 


was  cabin-boy,  to  the  house  of  Lord  Frankland  with  a mes- 
sage. Returning  to  the  ship  he  said  to  a companion,  • — 

My  sister  lives  there.” 

The  next  day  they  went  to  view  the  house  ; the  front 
door  being  open  they  saw  a lady  pass  through  the  entry. 
There  is  your  sister,  Isaac,”  said  his  companion. 

The  lady  hearing  the  words  turned  and  recognized  her 
brother.  He  was  welcomed  to  her  home,  and  afterwards 
became  the  possessor  of  the  elegant  mansion. 

The  house  was  situated  at  the  North  End,  for  many  years 
the  fashionable  part  of  the  town  and  city.  It  was  on  Garden 
Court  Street.  There  was  a side  gate  on  Bell  Alley,  now 
New  Prince  Street. 

From  the  top  could  be  obtained  an  extensive  view  of  the 
harbor,  forts,  and  islands.  With  spy-glass  in  hand  one  could 
discern  the  coming  of  homeward-bound  vessels. 

Although  the  outside  of  the  house  has  been  to  some  extent 
described  by  others,  there  are  only  a few  left  who  can  speak 
of  the  interior. 

Passing  up  a flight  of  stone  steps,  one  entered  by  the  front 
door  a large  hall ; midway  of  this  was  an  arch,  in  the  centre 
of  which  was  suspended  a large  brass  lantern.  On  either 
side  of  the  door  were  very  large  parlors.  In  one  the  floor 
was  inlaid  with  hundreds  of  pieces  of  wood  of  various  forms. 
The  centre  of  this  floor  has  been  made  into  a table.  All  the 
windows  had  low  mahogany  seats,  broad  enough  for  two  or 
three  to  sit  upon  them. 

Here  in  this  room  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  grandfather  of  the 
Marquis  of  Lome,  son-in-law  of  Queen  Victoria,  was  mar- 
ried. 

Under  one  of  the  flights  of  stairs  Avas  a dark  closet,  where, 
it  is  said,  a refugee  was  hid  during  the  Revolution. 

Except  in  the  parts  my  father  had  repaired,  the  house 
reminded  one  of  those  old  castle-like  structures  described  by 


200 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


story-writers.  But  all  has  been  gone  for  many  years,  and 
a number  of  houses  and  stores  now  occupy  the  site  of  this 
old  landmark.  e.  c.  w. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  has  told  the  story  of  Lady  Agnes 
in  one  of  his  long  poems.  You  may  like  to  read  it  in  this 
connection. 


THE  LIBERTY  TREE. 


MAP  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  ABOUT  1/00, 


“ They  left  the  ploughshare  in  the  mould, 
Their  flocks  and  herds  without  a fold, 

The  sickle  in  the  unshorn  grain, 

The  corn,  half-garnered,  on  the  plain ; 

And  mustered,  in  their  simple  dress. 

For  wrongs  to  seek  a stern  redress. 

To  right  those  wrongs,  come  weal,  come  woe. 
To  perish,  or  overcome  their  foe. 

And  where  are  ye,  O fearless  men.? 

And  where  are  ye  to-day  ? 

I call,  — the  hills  reply  again 
That  ye  have  passed  away ; 

That  on  old  Bunker’s  lonely  height. 

In  Trenton,  and  in  Monmouth  ground. 

The  grass  grows  green,  the  harvest  bright. 
Above  each  soldier’s  mound. 

“ The  bugle’s  wild  and  warlike  blast 
Shall  muster  them  no  more ; 

An  army  now  might  thunder  past 
And  they  not  heed  its  roar. 

The  starry  flag,  ’neath  which  they  fought 
In  many  a bloody  day. 

From  their  old  graves  shall  rouse  them  not, 
For  they  have  passed  away.”  * 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  EVE  OF  REVOLUTION. 

A SHADOW  fell  on  the  golden  age  of  the  colonial  period 
when  the  old  charter  was  taken  away ; political  clouds  gath- 
ered again  and  again,  and  as  often  melted  into  sunshine 
during  the  long  period  of  the  royal  governors,  but  now  the 
tempest  was  gathering  indeed. 

The  Stamp  Act  was  passed  in  1765.  It  decided  the  peo- 
ple. The  colony  needed  leaders,  and  in  this  necessity,  Otis, 
Hancock,  Adams,  and  Warren  appeared. 

The  Stamp  Act  laid  a duty  on  every  piece  of  paper  on 
which  anything  of  value  could  be  written  or  printed.  It  was 
designed  thus  to  raise  a revenue  for  the  Crown  from  the 
colonies.  The  people  of  the  colonies  said,  We  are  not 
represented  in  Parliament,  and  taxation  without  representa- 
tion is  tyranny.” 

James  Otis,  a man  of  powerful  genius  and  ardent  temper, 
of  brilliant  and  impetuous  eloquence,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
advocates  of  the  independence  of  the  colonies  in  the  man- 
agement of  their  local  affairs.  He  was  born  at  West  Barns- 
table in  1725.  In  1764  he  published  a masterly  pamphlet 
entitled  The  Rights  of  the  Colonies  Vindicated.”  In  1765 
he  moved  the  calling  of  a congi*ess  of  delegates  of  the  several 
colonies,  a plan  which  met  with  popular  favor  and  was 
adopted.  This  was  the  first  decisive  step  towards  indepen- 
dence. He  lost  his  reason  in  his  last  years.  As  if  fulfilling 


2o6  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

a wish  that  he  had  often  expressed,  that  he  might  die  sud- 
denly, he  was  killed  by  a stroke  of  lightning  in  May,  1783. 

John  Hancock  was  born  at  Quincy,  1737.  He  was  the 
son  of  Rev.  John  Hancock  of  Braintree,  and  was  educated 
by  his  uncle,  Thomas  Hancock,  of  Boston,  a gentleman  of 
wealth,  whose  fortune  he  received.  He  visited  England 
in  1760,  where  he  witnessed  the  coronation  of  George  HI. 
He  was  a member  of  the  Provincial  Congress,  and  so  stro,ngly 
opposed  the  measures  of  the  British  ministry  that  he  was 
exempted  from  the  general  pardon  offered  by  General  Gage 
when  the  latter  attempted  to  stay  the  tide  of  revolution  by 
pacific  measures. 

Samuel  Adams  was  born  in  Boston  in  1722.  He  was  a 
cousin  of  John  Adams,  afterwards  President  of  the  United 
States.  He  studied  for  the  ministry.  As  early  as  1 743,  when 
he  received  the  degree  of  A.  M.,  he  proposed  a discussion 
of  the  question,  Whether  it  be  lawful  to  resist  the  supreme 
magistrate,  if  the  commonwealth  otherwise  cannot  be  pre- 
served.” He  strongly  opposed  the  Stamp  Act,  and  favored 
the  Provincial  Congress.  He  was  also  exempted  from  par- 
don in  the  proclamation  of  General  Gage  to  which  we  have 
just  referred. 

General  Joseph  Warren  was  born  in  1741,  at  Roxbury, 
Mass.,  where  his  place  may  still  be  seen.  He  was  a physi- 
cian. He  became  an  ardent  patriot,  and,  in  advance  of  the 
public  sentiment  of  the  time  when  he  first  espoused  the  cause 
of  liberty,  he  maintained  that  all  taxation  which  could  be 
imposed  by  Parliament  on  the  colonies  was  tyranny. 

Here  were  the  four  leaders,  brave,  strong,  educated  men. 
Their  cause  was  liberty,  and  events  were  hurrying. 

In  October,  1760,  George  II.  died  suddenly  in  his  palace 
at  Kensington.  The  bells  of  Boston  tolled ; it  was  the  last 
time  they  were  ever  tolled  for  a king.  George  HI.  was 
proclaimed,  and  his  favorite  minister,  the  Earl  of  Bute, 


209 


1766.  Repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act, 

soon  entered  upon  a policy  hostile  to  the  peace  of  the 
colony. 

What  shall  we  do?” 

Every  patriot  asked  the  question.  Conventions  were 
called  in  various  places  to  answer  this  inquiry  that  rose 
to  every  lip. 

It  was  the  period  of  lawful  and  peaceable  resistance  to 
taxation,  when  the  fiery  spirit  of  the  patriots  was  curbed  by 
the  bridle  of  English  law.  The  Stamp  Act,  or  a heavy  tax 
on  all  kinds  of  paper,  for  the  purpose  of  supporting  the 
British  government,  had  checked  the  growth  of  trade. 
Nothing  could  be  done  legally  — newspapers  could  not  be 
issued,  the  business  of  the  courts  could  not  proceed,  no 
property  could  be  transferred,  no  vessel  could  go  to  sea,  no 
person  could  be  married  — without  the  use  of  the  paper 
bearing  upon  it  the  odious  stamp. 

In  the  middle  of  May,  1766,  the  news  of  the  repeal  of  the 
Stamp  Act  was  received  in  Boston.  The  town  then  num- 
bered some  twenty  thousand  people.  The  fate  of  the  bill 
for  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  had  been  for  weeks  almost 
the  only  subject  of  discussion.  Upon  it  the  patriots  felt 
rested  the  destiny  of  the  colonies. 

Men  scanned  the  blue  line  of  Boston  harbor,  to  see  the 
white  sails  rise  from  the  sea,  and  rushed  to  the  wharves  to 
receive  the  first  intelligence  from  London.  At  length,  on 
May  16,  a lovely  day,  a brigantine  flying  the  English  flag 
was  seen  beyond  the  green  islands  of  the  bay,  and  soon 
entered  the  inner  harbor.  She  was  met  at  the  wharf  by  a 
crowd,  restless  and  impatient  with  anxiety. 

An  hour  later  the  bells  of  the  town  began  to  ring;  the 
long  idle  ships  in  the  harbor  shot  their  ensigns  into  the  warm 
May  air  ; the  booming  of  cannon  startled  the  people  of  the 
neighboring  towns,  and,  as  evening  came  on,  great  bonfires 
on  Beacon  Hill  blazed  upon  the  sea.  From  lip  to  lip  passed 

u 


210  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

the  single  expression  of  joy  and  relief,  — The  Stamp  Act 
is  repealed  ! ” 

A few  days  later  witnessed  a more  remarkable  scene,  — a 
public  holiday  to  give  expression  to  the  joy.  At  one  o’clock 
in  the  morning  the  bell  of  Dr.  Byles’s  church,  standing  near 
the  Liberty  Tree,  where  the  Colonists  used  to  meet,  gave  the 
signal  for  the  beginning  of  the  festival.  It  was  followed  by 


THE  HANCOCK  HOUSE. 


the  melodious  chimes  of  Christ  Church,  at  the  North  End, 
and  then  by  all  the  bells  of  the  town. 

The  first  shimmering  light  and  rosy  tinges  of  the  May 
morning  found  steeples  fluttering  with  gay  banners,  and  the 
Liberty  Tree  on  Essex  Street  displaying  among  its  new  leaves 
an  unexampled  glory  of  bunting  and  flags. 

The  festivities  lasted  until  midnight.  At  night  an  obelisk 
which  had  been  erected  on  the  Common  in  honor  of  the 


ADAMS  OPPOSING  THE  STAMP  ACT  FROM  THE  OLD  STATE  HOUSE, 


1770. 


Patriotic  Ladies. 


213 


occasion  was  illuminated  with  two  hundred  and  eighty  lamps, 
and  displayed  upon  its  top  a revolving  wheel  of  fire,  as  the 
crowning  pyrotechny.  The  Hancock  House,  which  stood 
on  Beacon  Hill  where  the  Brewer  residence  now  stands,  was 
a blaze  of  light,  and  Province  House  was  in  its  vice-regal 
glory. 

The  Stamp  Act  was  repealed,  but  the  British  government 
continued  to  tax  the  colonies,  and  the  sudden  sunshine  of 
joy  soon  was  overcast,  and  the  storm  gathered  again. 

The  article  upon  which  the  Crown  made  the  most  persist- 
ent attempt  to  raise  a revenue  was  tea.  The  tax  was  a small 
matter,  of  itself ; but  if  the  right  to  tax  one  article  was 
admitted,  it  acknowledged  the  right  to  tax  all  articles. 

As  the  excise  officers  of  Great  Britain  held  control  of  the 
ports,  and  in  some  cities  were  supported  by  soldiery,  no  tea 
could  be  obtained  without  paying  the  tax.  The  people 
therefore  resolved  that  they  would  neither  use,  sell,  nor 
buy  an  ounce  of  tea  upon  which  this  unjust  tax  had  been 
paid. 

In  February,  1770,  the  mistresses  of  three  hundred  fami- 
lies in  !|Boston  signed  their  names  to  a league,  by  which  they 
bound  themselves  not  to  drink  any  tea  until  the  obnoxious 
revenue  act  was  repealed. 

Of  course  the  young  ladies  were  as  ready  to  deny  them- 
selves the  use  of  this  fashionable  beverage  as  were  their 
mothers ; and  only  a few  days  later,  a great  multitude  of 
misses,  pretty  and  patriotic,  signed  a document  headed  with 
these  words  : — 

^^We,  the  daughters  of  those  patriots  who  have  and  do 
now  appear  for  the  public  interest,  and  in  that  principally 
regard  their  posterity,  — as  such  do  with  pleasure  engage 
with  them  in  denying  ourselves  the  drinking  of  foreign  tea, 
in  hopes  to  frustrate  the  plan  which  tends  to  deprive  a whole 
community  of  all  that  is  valuable  in  life.” 


214  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

The  spirit  of  liberty  spread.  Tumultuous  meetings  be- 
came common  in  the  street.  In  1768  the  offieers  of  cus- 
toms seized  a sloop,  named  Liberty,  belonging  to  John 
Hancock,  and  placed  her  under  the  guns  of  a ship-of-war  in 
the  harbor.  A mob  collected,  seized  one  of  the  collector’s 
boats  and  burned  it  on  the  Common.  In  1770  a boy  was 
accidentally  killed  by  a royalist  whom  the  crowd  were 
deriding  by  an  effigy.  The  funeral  of  the  boy  was  made  the 
occasion  of  a great  popular  gathering. 

The  corpse  was  taken  to  the  Liberty  Tree  on  Essex  Street, 
amid  tolling  bells,  where  the  immense  procession  began. 
Fifty  schoolboys  led,  and  were  followed  by  about  two  thou- 
sand citizens.  The  pall  was  supported  by  six  boys ; the 
coffin  bore  a Latin  inscription,  — Innocence  itself  is  not 
safe.”  Business  was  suspended.  The  whole  population  of 
the  town  was  in  the  streets,  and  the  bells  of  the  neighboring 
towns  were  heard  echoing  the  solemn  funeral  bells  of 
Boston. 

Such  was  the  temper  of  the  people.  The  royal  governor 
was  almost  powerless,  and  troops  were  brought  to  Boston 
and  stationed  on  the  Common.  Ships  arrived  bringing  rein- 
forcements ; the  Common  became  a camp,  and  difficulties 
between  the  citizens  and  foreign  soldiers  were  frequently 
occurring.  Every  one  seemed  to  feel  that  the  storm  of  war 
was  gathering. 

It  was  the  5th  of  March,  1770,  a clear  moonlight  night, 
with  a light  snow  upon  the  ground,  soon  to  be  tinged  with 
blood.  A mob  had  assembled  in  front  of  the  Custom  House 
in  State  Street,  where  the  British  guard  were  stationed. 
Citizens  had  been  insulted  by  a British  soldier,  and  the  town 
was  again  electric  with  excitement.  Bells  were  ringing, 
people  were  running  through  all  the  streets. 

The  crowd  pressed  upon  the  British  soldiers  and  attacked 
them  with  snow  and  ice. 


1770-  Boston  Boys  and  General  Gage.  215 

Fire,  fire,  if  you  dare  ! ” was  cried  on  every  hand. 

There  was  heard  the  crack  of  a musket  in  the  keen  March 
air  ; another,  and  another.  Three  citizens  fell  dead. 

To  arms  ! to  arms  ! ” 

The  cry  ran  through  the  town. 

Drums  beat,  bells  rang  madly,  the  King’s  Council  imme- 
diately assembled. 

The  citizens  triumphed.  The  troops  were  removed  to 
Castle  William,  on  the  island  at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor. 

The  funeral  of  the  slain  was  attended  by  a great  concourse 
of  people,  and  another  day  of  clanging  bells  and  feverish 
excitement  was  added  to  those  of  the  past. 

The  boys  were  fired  with  the  spirit  of  their  fathers.  Gen- 
eral Gage  was  the  commander  of  the  military  forces  of  New 
England,  and  his  head-quarters  were  at  Boston.  During  the 
winter,  when  the  Common  was  a camp,  the  British  soldiers 
destroyed  the  boys’  coasting  grounds.  The  larger  boys 
called  a meeting  and  resolved  to  wait  upon  General  Haldi- 
mand,  General  Gage’s  subordinate,  and  report  to  him  the 
conduct  of  the  soldiers. 

When  they  presented  themselves  before  him  he  asked  with 
surprise,  — 

Why  have  you  come  to  me?  ” 

^^We  come,  sir,”  said  the  leader,  “to  ask  the  punishment 
of  those  who  wrong  us.” 

“ Why,  my  boys,  have  your  fathers  made  rebels  of  you 
and  sent  you  here  to  talk  rebellion?  ” 

“ Nobody  sent  us,  sir ; we  have  never  insulted  your  soldiers, 
but  they  have  spoiled  our  skating  ground,  and  trodden  down 
our  snow  hills.  We  complained ; they  laughed  at  us  : we 
told  the  captain ; he  sent  us  away.  Yesterday  our  works 
were  again  destroyed.  We  can  bear  it  no  longer.” 

“ Good  heavens  ! ” said  General  Gage,  on  hearing  the 
story ; “ the  very  children  draw  in  the  love  of  freedom  with 
the  air  they  breathe  ! ” 


2i6  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

Turning  to  the  boys,  he  said,  — 

^^You  may  go;  if  any  of  my  soldiers  disturb  you  in  the 
future  they  shall  be  punished.” 

The  English  East  India  Company  obtained  a license  to 
export  a large  quantity  of  tea  to  America.  The  news 
reached  Boston  in  October,  1773  ; meetings  were  called  and 
resolutions  were  passed  that  no  taxed  tea  should  be  landed. 

The  ships  arrived.  A great  meeting  was  held  in  the  Old 
South  Church,  at  which  at  least  two  thousand  men  were 
present,  who  were  addressed  by  the  patriots. 

In  the  evening  strange-looking  people  began  to  mingle 
with  the  crowd.  They  were  dressed  like  Indians.  One  of 
them  at  last  shouted,  — 

Who  knows  how  tea  will  mingle  with  salt  water?  ” 

There  was  heard  a wild  cry,  an  Indian  war-whoop.  The 
strange-looking  people  disappeared,  and  the  assembly  dis- 
persed. 

In  the  morning  it  was  found  that  the  men  disguised  as 
Indians  had  boarded  the  ships  and  emptied  two  hundred 
and  forty  chests  and  a hundred  half-chests  into  the  dock. 

The  news  of  this  transaction  enraged  England.  Parliament 
passed  an  act  closing  the  port  of  Boston.  Business  in  the 
town  now  almost  ceased. 

All  the  summer  of  1774  troops  were  arriving  from  Eng- 
land. At  the  close  of  the  year  there  were  eleven  regiments 
of  Red  Coats,  as  the  British  soldiers  were  called,  in  Boston. 

Governor  and  General  Gage  had  arranged  to  assemble  a 
General  Court  at  Salem  in  October.  But  the  excitement 
was  so  great  that  he  deferred  the  call  by  proclamation.  The 
representatives,  however,  appeared  at  the  previously  ap- 
pointed place  and  time,  and  formed  a Provincial  Congress, 
and  then  adjourned  to  meet  at  Concord.  This  Congress 
called  upon  the  people  to  arm.  General  Gage  thus  found 
himself  ignored,  his  power  as  governor  gone ; and  with  it  the 


DESTRUCTION  OF 


Of  iHt 

WEHSJi'  a*  LUi«OtS 


1775- 


Paul  Revere  s Ride. 


219 


rule  of  the  royal  governors  came  to  an  end,  after  a period 
of  more  than  eighty  years. 

The  Provincial  Congress  at  Concord  placed  under  arms  the 
whole  militia  of  the  province.  It  took  measures  for  the  es- 
tablishment of  two  magazines,  one  at  Concord  and  the  other 
at  Worcester.  General  Gage,  who  was  in  command  at  Bos- 
ton, was  soon  informed  of  what  the  assembly  had  done.  He 
was  watchful  of  the  patriots ; they  were  also  watchful  of  him. 
The  slightest  movement  of  the  loyalists  was  suspected.  The 
whole  population  was  prepared  to  rise  in  arms  to  resist  the 
oppressor. 

PAUL  REVERE’S  ride. 

A day  or  two  before  the  eventful  19th  of  April,  1775,  Gen- 
eral Gage  began  preparations  for  an  expedition  to  destroy 
the  military  stores  that  the  patriots  had  collected.  Boats 
from  a ship-of-war  were  launched  to  carry  the  troops  across 
the  Charles  River.  The  movement  was  observed  by  the 
patriots.  Companies  of  soldiers  were  massed  on  Boston 
Common,  under  pretence  of  learning  a new  military  exercise. 

Dr.  — afterwards  General  — W arren,  who  fell  at  Bunker  Hill, 
at  once  sent  Paul  Revere  to  arouse  the  country.  He  was  to 
notify  Hancock  and  Adams,  who  were  at  Lexington,  that  a 
plot  was  on  foot  to  arrest  them,  and  to  warn  the  people  of 
Concord  that  the  troops  were  coming  to  destroy  the  military 
stores  collected  there. 

'G\s  soon  as  the  British  troops  begin  to  move,”  said  Re- 
vere to  a patriot,  hang  out  two  lanterns  in  the  steeple  of 
the  North  Meeting-house.” 

From  this  position  the  people  of  Charlestown  would  see 
the  signals  at  once.  The  officers  at  the  Province  House 
would  not  discover  them. 

Revere  rowed  across  the  river  with  muffled  oars.  He 
reached  Charlestown,  and  not  a moment  too  soon. 


220  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

April  1 8th, — ten  o’clock.  The  British  troops  are  in  mo- 
tion. Two  lights  flash  into  the  darkness  from  the  old  North 
steeple. 

The  British  troops  have  marched,  but  will  miss  their 
aim,”  said  a patriot  in  the  hearing  of  Lord  Percy,  one  of  the 
British  commanders. 

^^What  aim?” 

The  cannon  at  Concord.” 

Percy  hastened  back  to  the  Province  House  and  told  Gage 
what  he  had  heard. 

''  I am  betrayed,”  said  Gage  j let  no  one  leave  the 
town.” 

But  Revere  was  in  Charlestown  already. 

He  flew  on  horseback  over  the  country  roads  alarming 
every  household,  warning  Hancock  and  Adams  at  Lexington, 
and  despatching  a friend  with  the  news  to  Concord. 

The  British  troops  embarked  at  the  foot  of  Boston  Com- 
mon, for  the  tide  then  came  nearly  up  to  the  side  of  the  hill 
where  the  Soldiers’  Monument  now  stands.  They  landed  at 
Cambridge,  and  after  a night’s  march  reached  Lexington 
early  in  the  morning.  They  found  there  sixty  or  seventy 
armed  farmers  waiting  to  defend  their  liberties. 

In  the  chilly  spring  morning,  just  before  sunrise.  Major 
Pitcairn  rode  upon  Lexington  Common. 

Disperse,  you  rebels,”  he  cried  to  the  armed  patriots, 
accompanying  the  order  with  an  oath. 

He  himself  fired  upon  the  patriots,  at  the  same  time  call- 
ing upon  the  troops  to  fire. 

The  British  fired.  Eleven  patriots  fell  dead,  and  nine 
were  wounded.  The  patriots  retreated. 

The  sun  rose  over  the  gray  hills. 

Oh  what  a glorious  morning  this  is  ! said  Samuel  Ad- 
ams, 'when  he  heard  that  the  contest  for  liberty  had  indeed 
begun. 


1775- 


Rallying  at  Concord, 


221 


The  British  hurried  on  to  Concord,  a distance  of  six  miles. 
They  found  the  country  rising  in  arms,  and  that  the  military 
stores  they  sought  to  destroy  had  been  removed.  Companies 
of  militia  were  hastening  to  Concord  from  the  neighboring 
towns.  Minute-men  were  gathering  there  from  every  road. 


PROVINCIALS  RALLYING  AT  CONCORD. 


Two  parties  of  British  troops  went  in  search  of  concealed 
supplies,  one  over  the  south  bridge  and  the  other  over  the 
north  bridge.  They  were  watched  by  the  Provincials,  who 
presently  saw  houses  bursting  into  flame,  and  resolved  to 
march  to  the  defence  of  their  homes.  They  advanced  towards 
the  north  bridge,  but  the  order  was  that  not  a shot  should 
be  fired  unless  the  regulars  attacked  them. 

At  last  the  British  fired.  Two  patriots  fell. 

Fire  ! for  God’s  sake,  fire  ! ” shouted  Major  Buttrick  of 
Concord,  leaping  into  the  air,  and  turning  round  to  his  men. 


222  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

The  patriots  fired. 

The  American  Revolution  had  begun. 

The  British  had  found  themselves  surrounded  by  enemies 
on  every  hand.  They  knew  they  must  retreat,  and  at  once. 

Back  to  Boston  all  the  warm  April  day  they  marched,  fired 
at  by  the  minute-men  who  lay  in  ambush  on  every  side. 
Finding  the  dangers  increasing  they  began  to  run.  At  two 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  a point  about  a mile 
from  the  place  where  they  had  murdered  the  people  of  Lex- 
ington in  the  morning.  Here  they  were  met  by  the  flower  of 
the  British  army,  that  had  been  sent  for  their  succor  from 
Boston. 

These  troops  were  under  Lord  Percy,  and  were  twelve 
hundred  strong,  with  two  field-pieces.  They  were  not  a mo- 
ment too  soon.  Lord  Percy  formed  a hollow  square  to  re- 
ceive the  fugitives,  who,  as  a British  writer  of  the  time  said, 
lay  down  to  rest,  their  tongues  hanging  out  of  their  mouths 
like  those  of  a dog  after  a chase.” 

Even  when  the  regulars  were  thus  reinforced  their  position 
was  very  perilous.  Their  enemies  were  increasing  in  num- 
bers every  moment.  In  a short  time  the  troops  would  cer- 
tainly be  cut  off  and  overwhelmed  unless  they  moved  at 
once. 

The  march  was  resumed  and  the  fighting  began  again. 
More  men  came  up  to  help  the  patriots,  who  had  become 
weary  with  their  long,  irregular  march  and  hard  work.  It  was 
seven  o’clock  in  the  evening  when  the  British  force  reached 
Charlestown.  Protected  by  the  guns  of  the  ship-of-war  in 
the  harbor,  they  took  to  their  boats  and  were  ferried  across  to 
Boston. 

The  losses  of  the  British  were  seventy-three  killed,  one 
hundred  and  seventy-two  wounded,  and  twenty-six  missing ; 
while  the  Americans  lost  forty-nine  killed,  thirty-six  wounded, 
and  five  missing. 


CONFLICT  AT  THE  NORTH  BRIDGE 


UBffM] 
Of  ffif 
dM'EHSU  t w 


umois 


1775- 


Dorothy  Quincy  s Wedding, 


225 


We  will  close  this  chapter  with  some  stories  of  these  days 
of  patriotism  and  some  account  of  the  memorials  of  that 
noble  and  heroic  period. 

THE  STORY  OF  DOROTHY  QUINCY^S  WEDDING. 

In  a Connecticut  newspaper,  printed  one  hundred  and  six 
years  ago,  appears  this  brief,  business-like  announcement : — 
September,  1775,  28th  ult.,  was  married  at  the  seat 

of  Thaddeus  Burr,  Esq.,  in  Fairfield,  by  the  Rev.  Andrew 
Eliot,  John  Hancock,  Esq.,  Brest,  of  the  Continental  Con- 
gress, to  Miss  Dorothy  Quincy,  daughter  of  Edmund  Quincy, 
Esq.,  of  Boston.’'  * 

Dorothy  Quincy  was  the  youngest  of  rJne  children,  and  in 
1775  was  living  with  her  father  in  a pretty  wooden  dwelling  on 
Summer  Street,  not  far  from  the  stately  Hancock  mansion, 
which  fronted  on  the  Common.  She  was  fully  the  equal  of 
Governor  Hancock  in  social  position  if  not  in  wealth,  and 
had  the  advantage  of  him  in  age,  he  being  some  years  her 
senior.  She  was  the  petted  belle  of  Boston  society  at  this 
time.  The  marriage  was  arranged,  so  the  gossips  said,  by 
Madam  Hancock,  aunt  of  the  governor,  and  widow  of  Thomas 
Hancock,  the  great  Boston  merchant,  from  whom  Governor 
Hancock  derived  the  bulk  of  his  fortune.  Miss  Dolly  being 
motherless,  the  madam  chaperoned  her  about,  and  conceiving 
a deep  affection  for  the  beautiful  girl  busied  herself  in  pro- 
moting a union  between  her  two  prot^g^s  with  such  good 
effect  that  in  the  winter  of  1775  their  engagement  was  an- 
nounced. 

On  the  eve  of  the  eventful  19th  of  April,  1775,  Madam 
Hancock  and  Miss  Dolly  were  visiting  in  Lexington  at  the 
house  of  a relative  of  the  former,  — a Rev.  Mr.  Clark.  This 
had  been  the  home  of  Governor  Hancock  that  winter  during 
the  sitting  of  the  Provincial  Congress  at  Concord,  and  as  it 

15 


226  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

happened  both  he  and  Samuel  Adams  were  present  on  this 
occasion. 

At  midnight  Paul  Revere  startled  this  company  by  riding 
up  with  a message  from  Dr.  Warren  advising  them  to  save 
themselves  and  alarm  the  country/ as  General  Gage  had  or- 
dered a force  to  march  that  night  to  destroy  the  stores  at 
Concord.  There  was  great  excitement  in  the  little  village ; 
the  church-bell  was  rung,  and  the  patriots  came  pouring  in 
from  all  sides.  Hancock  and  Adams  remained  on  the  green 
organizing  and  encouraging  the  militia  until  daybreak,  when, 
learning  that  their  capture  was  one  of  the  objects  of  the  ex- 
pedition, they  retired  to  Woburn,  and  found  shelter  at  the 
house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones.  The  ladies  remained  in  Lex- 
ington and  witnessed  the  fight.  Madam  Hancock  from  the 
open  door  and  Miss  Dolly  from  the  chamber  window,  until 
they  were  called  away  to  attend  to  the  wounded  who  were 
brought  in. 

After  the  British  had  passed  on  to  Concord  a message  from 
Mr.  Hancock  arrived  telling  them  where  he  and  Mr.  Adams 
were,  and  asking  them  to  drive  over  in  the  carriage  and  bring 
the  fine  salmon  they  had  ordered  for  dinner.  The  ladies  did 
so ; the  salmon  was  cooked,  and  the  party  was  just  sitting 
down  to  it  when  a man  rushed  in  with  the  news  that  the 
British  were  coming,  and  the  persecuted  patriots  were  again 
obliged  to  flee,  this  time  to  a friendly  swamp,  where  they 
remained  until  the  alarm  was  proven  a false  one. 

Next  day  Miss  Dolly  informed  Mr.  Hancock  that  she  should 
return  to  her  father  in  Boston. 

''  No,  madam,”  he  replied,  you  shall  not  return  as  long  as 
there  is  a British  bayonet  in  Boston.” 

Recollect,  Mr.  Hancock,”  she  replied,  I am  not  under 
your  control  yet.  I shall  go  in  to  my  father  to-morrow.” 

She  did  not  go,  however;  Madam  Hancock  would  not 
hear  of  it,  and  it  was  nearly  three  years  before  she  saw  her 


LI8R.?-.HY 

Of  fHf 

UNiVEHSliJ  Uf  ILLINOIS 


1775*  Dorothy  Qtditcy  s Wedding,  229 

native  town  again.  Madam  Hancock,  poor  lady,  never  re- 
turned. 

After  the  battle  Hancock  and  Adams  found  themselves 
proscribed  men,  and  as  the  neighborhood  of  Boston  was  un- 
safe, they  passed  down  through  the  interior  counties  of  Mas- 
sachusetts and  Connecticut  to  Fairfield  and  the  hospitable 
mansion  of  their  mutual  friend,  Thaddeus  Burr. 

Madam  Hancock  and  Miss  Dolly  accompanied  them.  Mr. 
Burr  was  a gentleman  of  good  family  and  ample  estate,  and 
received  his  guests  with  the  utmost  cordiality.  At  his  hos- 
pitable mansion  the  two  refugees  remained  for  several  weeks 
and  then  went  on  to  the  Second  Continental  Congress,  which 
met  at  Philadelphia,  and  of  which  Mr.  Hancock  was  Presi- 
dent. Miss  Dorothy  and  the  madam,  however,  remained  at 
Fairfield  all  through  this  eventful  summer. 

In  August  Governor  Hancock  returned  from  Congress,  and 
on  the  28th  they  were  married  at  Mr.  Burr’s  house  by  the 
Rev.  Andrew  Eliot,  pastor  of  the  Fairfield  church.  It  could 
not  have  been  a very  merry  gathering,  I think,  for  the  groom 
was  a proscribed  man,  and  his  house  and  property,  as  well  as 
that  of  his  bride,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Quite  a 
number  of  guests  were  present,  however,  political  friends  of 
the  Governor,  and  young  lady  companions  of  Miss  Dorothy’s 
whom  the  war  had  driven  into  exile.  After  the  blessing 
had  been  pronounced  the  newly  wedded  pair  entered  their 
carriage  and  were  driven  by  slow  stages  to  Philadelphia, 
where  Mr.  Hancock  resumed  his  duties  as  President  of  the 
Congress. 

Perhaps  the  reader  is  curious  to  know  how  this  bride  of 
high  degree  spent  the  hours  of  her  honeymoon?  Chiefly, 
she  tells  us,  in  packing  up  commissions  to  be  sent  to  the 
officers  of  the  volunteer  army  recently  created  by  Con- 
gress. 

After  the  evacuation  of  Boston  Mr.  Hancock  became  gov- 


230  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

ernor,  and  he  and  his  wife  took  up  their  residence  at  the 
Hancock  House. 

DOROTHY  Hancock's  reception. 

Dorothy  Quincy,  afterwards  wife  of  John  Hancock,  was 
the  leader  of  Boston  society  at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. She  lived  in  a stately  residence  on  Summer  Street. 
Her  grandfather,  Edmund  Quincy,  wAs  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Massachusetts  and  the  colony’s  agent  at  the  Court 
of  St.  James.  AVe  have  told  you  the  story  of  her  romantic 
marriage  with  John  Hancock. 

The  fine  old  Hancock  House  stood  on  Beacon  Hill; 
Hancock  Street  descends  almost  directly  from  the  place. 
After  Dorothy  Quincy  became  Madam  Hancock  and  returned 
to  Boston  with  her  husband  after  the  evacuation  of  the  town, 
she  still  led  society,  and  the  Hancock  House  was  at  times 
the  scene  of  elegant  receptions. 

In  T778  a French  fleet  under  Count  d’Estaing  came 
sailing  into  Boston  harbor. 

‘‘We  must  give  a reception  to  the  officers,”  said  Governor 
Hancock  to  the  stately  Dorothy. 

The  grand  lady  thought  a breakfast  to  the  officers  would 
be  the  courteous  thing,  and  so  it  was  arranged  that  the 
French  Count  and  thirty  officers  should  be  invited  to  break- 
fast at  the  Hancock  House. 

The  Count  cordially  accepted  the  invitation,  but  instead  of 
inviting  only  thirty  officers  to  accompany  him  he  asked  all 
the  officers  of  the  fleet,  including  the  midshipmen. 

When  John  Hancock  saw  the  great  crowd  of  Frenchmen 
coming  he  sent  word  to  his  wife, — 

“ Get  breakfast  for  one  hundred  and  twenty  more 

Here  was  a situation  requiring  good  management  in- 
deed. 


JOHN  HANCOCK, 


s 


..a 

O^IVEHSfH  Of  lumois 


1778.  • Dorothy  Hancock's  Reception.  233 

We  can  imagine  the  stately  Dorothy  at  the  Hancock 
House  enjoying  the  fine  appearance  of  her  tables  with  the 
ample  food  for  thirty  plates.  She  looks  out  over  the  Com- 
mon to  see  the  French  party  in  gold  lace  make  its  appear- 
ance. There  comes  a messenger  in  great  haste. 

“Get  breakfast  for  one  hundred  and  twenty  more.” 

John  Hancock  was  always  equal  to  an  emergency,  and  so 
was  Dorothy.  In  this  trying  situation  she  did  not  rush  into 
her  room,  lock  the  door,  and  sit  down  to  cry,  nor  did  she 
abuse  her  husband  and  call  him  a brute. 

How  did  the  energetic  Dorothy  meet  the  difficulty  ? 
She  sent  word  to  the  guard  to  milk  all  the  cows  on  the  Com- 
mon and  bring  the  pails  of  milk  to  her,  then  she  despatched 
her  servants  who  could  be  spared  to  borrow  cake  and  other 
good  things  of  the  first  families  of  the  town  for  a breakfast 
table. 

When  the  great  crowd  of  Frenchmen  came  she  was  mis- 
tress of  the  situation  and  prepared  to  receive  them  with 
dignity. 

“The  Frenchmen,”  said  Dorothy,  “ate  voraciously,  and 
one  of  them  drank  seventeen  cups  of  tea.” 

Some  of  the  midshipmen  destroyed  the  fruit  in  the  gar- 
den. The  Count  seemed  to  feel  that  he  had  encroached 
on  the  rule  of  hospitality,  and  to  make  amends  he  invited 
Madam  Hancock  and  her  fi'iends  to  visit  his  fleet. 

Dorothy  accepted  the  invitation  and  determined  to  in- 
vite all  of  her  friends  to  accompany  her. 

She  invited  five  hundred. 

The  Count  received  the  party  graciously,  and  provided  an 
elegant  entertainment. 

The  Count  with  a polite  gesture  handed  Madam  Hancock 
a string  and  desired  her  to  pull  it.  She  did  so,  causing 
the  firing  of  a cannon.  This  was  a signal  for  a feu  de  joie 
to  the  fleet.  Reports  of  cannon  came  from  all  the  ships,  and 


234  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

the  party  was  enveloped  in  smoke  and  almost  deafened  at 
the  sound. 

Good  Boston  ladies  are,  we  hope,  always  pleasant  and 
beaming  when  their  husbands  introduce  more  company 
than  was  expected,  — following  the  example  of  Dorothy 
Hancock. 


STORY  OF  A VISIT  TO  CHRIST  CHURCH. 

We  recently  spent  a Sabbath  at  Christ  Church,  whose 
steeple  is  associated  with  the  historic  signal  lights  that  gave 
warning  to  Paul  Revere.  It  was  a late  autumn  day  in  which 
something  of  summer  mildness  yet  lingered,  though  the 
flowers  were  gone  and  the  trees  were  bare.  We  had  often 
seen  the  sharp  spire  of  Christ  Church  rising  above  the 
havened  shipping  at  the  docks  and  wharves  near  Charlestown 
Navy  Yard,  and  had  recalled  the  historic  lanterns  that  once 
shone  as  a signal  in  its  high  window,  and  inspired  the 
intrepid  rider.  The  old  chimes  were  ringing  as  we  passed 
up  Salem  Street,  filling  the  mellow  air  with  the  sweet  music 
of  '^Antioch.” 

A great  change  has  passed  over  this  part  of  the  city  of 
Boston  since  those  same  chimes  rung  out  in  colonial  days. 
Excepting  Christ  Church  and  Copp’s  Hill  Burying-ground, 
little  remains  to  remind  the  visitor  that  this  was  once  the 
place  of  residence  of  the  best  English  families.  Salem  Street 
is  full  of  tenement-houses,  and  the  streets  that  intersect  this 
once  fine  thoroughfare  swarm  with  the  children  of  a foreign 
population,  representing  half  a dozen  nationalities.  The  air, 
though  cleared  on  Sunday,  is  usually  smoky  from  mechanical 
workshops,  and  hardly  a house  remains  that  would  indicate 
any  association  of  the  locality  with  the  best  days  of  the  New 
England  colonies. 

The  church  is  a plain  structure.  Except  in  the  music  of 


1706. 


Christ  Church, 


235 


its  chimes,  which  is  particularly  joyous  on  Sabbath  mornings 
and  on  Christmas  Day  and  at  Easter,  there  is  nothing  about 
it  to  arrest  the  step  of  the  stranger.  But  the  interior  is 
quaint  and  remarkable.  One  seems  to  pass  in  a moment 
from  the  busy 
scenes  of  one 
generation  to  the 
stately  and  quiet 
habitudes  of  an- 
other as  he  puts 
behind  him  the 
door. 

A choir  of  chil- 
dren, composed 
of  about  an  equal 
number  of  boys 
and  girls,  was 
singing  in  the 
orchestra,  accom- 
panied by  the  or- 
gan, as  we  en- 
tered. In  front 
of  the  orchestra, 
to  which  our  eye 
was  first  directed, 
stand  four  wooden  angels  with  trumpets,  carved  after  some 
antique  pattern,  and  highly  painted.  They  were  taken  by 
a privateer  from  a captured  vessel  bound  for  Spain,  and  so 
found  their  way  to  a Protestant  church,  instead  of  a Catholic 
cathedral.  The  odd  chandeliers,  to  which  our  eye  was  next 
turned,  have  a similar  history. 

The  pews  are  straight,  stately,  and  old,  and  the  old  pulpit 
is  furnished  with  a Bible  and  Prayer-Book,  the  gift  of  George 
II.  The  communion  service  was  the  gift  of  the  same  king. 


CHRIST  CHURCH. 


236  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

as  that  of  King’s  Chapel  was  the  endowment  of  William  and 
Mary. 

The  chancel  looks  more  like  a faded  picture  than  anything 
in  American  decorative  art,  though  the  old-time  chancel 
window  has  been  closed.  Near  it  stands  the  first  monument 
and  bust  of  Washington  ever  made  in  this  country. 

The  church  has  its  memorial  inscriptions,  and,  like  most 
churches  of  colonial  date,  its  tombs.  The  remains  of  Major 
Pitcairn  were  interred  under  this  church,  and  are  still  sup- 
posed to  be  there  by  certain  antiquaries,  notwithstanding 
the  record  on  the  monument  in  Westminster  Abbey.  It  is 
said  that  the  body  of  Lieutenant  Shea,  who  was  also  interred 
under  this  church,  was  forwarded  to  England  as  that  of  Pit- 
cairn, by  mistake,  the  sexton  at  the  time  of  the  removal  not 
being  able  to  identify  the  remains.  It  was  afterward  remem- 
bered that  Shea  had  worn  a plaster  on  his  head,  which  was 
the  case  of  the  body  sent  over  the  sea. 

The  steeple  of  Christ  Church  bears  the  date  of  1723.  It 
is  the  oldest  church  in  Boston  standing  on  its  original  ground, 
and  was  erected  six  years  before  the  Old  South.  Except 
King’s  Chapel,  it  is  the  only  house  of  worship  that  remains 
for  the  most  part  unaltered  since  colonial  days.  Brattle  Street 
Church  has  been  taken  down,  and  the  congregations  accus- 
tomed to  worship  there  erected  a new  and  costly  church  on 
the  Back  Bay,  which  has  lately  been  sold.  King’s  Chapel 
has  lost  much  of  its  old-time  expression  in  the  retouches  of 
decorative  art.  But  the  removal  of  business  and  wealth  to 
the  southern  portion  of  the  city  has  proved  the  protection  of 
this  venerable  Episcopal  edifice,  on  the  same  principle  that 
cathedrals  and  abbeys  best  preserve  their  ancient  features 
in  ruinous  and  decaying  towns. 

At  the  close  of  the  service,  which  was  after  the  most  sim- 
ple Episcopal  form,  we  ascended  the  old  tower  to  the  steeple. 
The  church  stands  on  rising  ground  overlooking  the  harbor. 


FROM  BONNER’S  MAP,  1*J22. 


OF  FHf 

UN!VERSli)f  OF  iLUfl»OIS 


1744- 


Christ  CJmrch  Bells, 


239 


and  the  tower  and  steeple,  which  are  one  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-five feet  high,  command  an  extensive  view  of  the  city 
and  adjoining  towns.  It  was  from  this  steeple  that  General 
Gage  witnessed  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  and  the  burning 
of  Charlestown. 

The  view  from  the  steeple  is  rich  with  subjects  for  histor- 
ical study.  Immediately  below  and  only  a few  steps  from 
the  church  is  Copp’s  Hill  Burying-ground,  where  lie  the  re- 
mains of  Cotton,  Increase,  and  Samuel  Mather,  of  ecclesias- 
tical fame.  The  willow  that  bends  over  their  tomb  was  cut 
from  a tree  which  shaded  the  grave  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena. 
Here  also  repose  the  relics  of  some  of  the  most  respectable 
colonial  families : the  Huguenot  Sigourneys,  Edmund  Hatt, 
the  builder  of  the  Constitution,  the  Mountfort  family,  claiming 
descent  from  the  Norman  conquest.  It  was  from  Copp’s 
Hill  that  Burgoyne  and  Clinton  directed  the  fire  of  the  bat- 
tery which  set  fire  to  Charlestown  at  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill. 

The  harbor  lies  below  with  the  navy-yard  spired  with  ships. 
Beyond  flows  the  Mystic  through  wooded  hills  and  past 
steepled  towns.  Across  the  long  bridge  is  Bunker  Hill  Mon- 
ument. On  one  hand  stretches  the  city  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
see ; on  the  other  the  inlets  to  the  bay  with  the  continuous 
dotting  of  fortifications  and  islands. 

The  bells  themselves  have  an  historical  interest.  They 
were  cast  in  England,  and  were  hung  in  1 744.  They  have 
an  aggregate  weight  of  seven  thousand  two  hundred  and 
twenty-two  pounds.  All  of  them  have  inscriptions.  On  the 
first  two  is  some  account  of  the  church’s  early  history.  On 
the  third  is  the  following  : — 

“We  are  the  first  ring  of  bells  cast  for  the  British  Empire  in  North 
America,  A.  R.  1744.” 

On  the  fourth  : — 

“ God  preserve  the  Church  of  England.” 


240  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

On  the  seventh  this  quiet  humor : — 

“ Since  generosity  has  opened  our  mouths,  our  tongues  shall  ring 
aloud  its  praise.” 

These  chimes  have  pealed  in  sunshine  and  storm  for  more 
than  one  hundred  and  thirty  years. 

“ Low  at  times  and  loud  at  times, 

And  changing  like  a poet’s  rhymes. 

Rung  the  beautiful  wild  chimes.” 

They  were  at  first  an  unwelcome  sound  in  the  colonies,  for 
the  chimes  of  motherland  had  small  charms  for  the  practical 
Puritan  ear.  They  rang  through  the  palmy  days  of  the  Eng- 
lish Georges  : they  were  revolutionary  tones,  and  they  have 
rung  through  all  the  republic’s  years  of  prosperity  and  peace. 
Boston  has  stretched  her  limits  far  beyond  their  sound.  But 
no  new  chime  rings  out  so  melodiously,  and  it  is  well  worth 
a stranger’s  walk  from  the  Common  on  a Christmas  morning 
to  hear  the  full,  joyous,  inspiring  tones  of  Christ  Church 
bells. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  First  Church,  the  Old  South  Church, 
and  the  Old  North  Church,  all  of  which  are  associated  with 
interesting  historic  events.  We  should  add  to  the  list  Arling- 
ton Street  Church,  which  is  the  successor  of  the  first  Presby- 
terian Church  gathered  in  Boston.  It  was  founded  in  1727, 
and  was  called  Federal  Street  Church  after  the  Revolution. 
It  was  in  the  second  house  of  worship,  erected  in  1 744,  that 
the  convention  met  that  ratified  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  It  became  a Unitarian  church  and  changed  its  loca- 
tion to  Arlington  Street.  It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
churches  of  the  city. 


“ Hail  to  the  morn,  when  first  they  stood 
On  Bunker’s  height, 

And,  fearless,  stemmed  the  invading  flood, 
And  wrote  our  dearest  rights  in  blood, 

And  mowed  in  ranks  the  hireling  brood, 

In  desperate  fight ! 

Oh,  ’twas  a proud,  exulting  day. 

For  even  our  fallen  fortunes  lay 
In  light.” 


Percival, 


A 


sjiafw 


-\x^ 


' -25 


■'S^ 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


BUNKER  HILL. 

There  was  to  be  war. 

After  the  shattered  British  regiments  came  running  back 
from  Concord  the  whole  country  became  aware  that  war  was 
at  hand ; that  the  thirteen  colonies  must  unite  in  it,  and  that 
the  issue  was  doubtful. 

The  British  army  in  Boston  was  soon  reinforced.  Howe, 
Clinton,  and  Burgoyne  were  the  commanders.  The  farmer- 
soldiers  were  on  the  alert,  building  rude  fortifications  at  places 
more  or  less  remote  from  the  town,  which  was  gradually 
being  placed  in  the  condition  of  siege.  On  the  15th  of  June 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  voted  to  fortify  Bunker  Hill. 

The  work  was  begun  at  once,  — on  the  evening  of  the 
following  day.  Fourteen  hundred  infantry  troops  and  a 
company  of  artillery  were  ordered  to  parade  on  Cambridge 
Common  at  six  o’clock  on  the  evening  of  the  i6th;  twelve 
hundred  met  at  the  time  appointed  ; they  listened  to  a feiwent 
prayer  from  the  President  of  Harvard  College,  and  then 
marched  to  Charlestown,  under  Colonel  Prescott. 

They  carried,  besides  arms,  shovels  and  dark-lanterns. 

They  marched  in  silence. 

They  were  ordered  to  1 erect  earthworks  first  on  Breed's 
Hill.  About  midnight  the  work  began  under  the  dim  light 
of  the  stars. 

The  workmen  were  so  near  the  enemy,  and  the  night  was 
so  still,  that  they  could  hear  the  sentinel’s  cry,  All’s  well,” 


244  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

ill  the  sleeping  town  across  the  river.  By  early  morning 
they  had  raised  intrenchments  six  feet  high. 

And  now  the  light  slowly  brightened  in  the  east,  and  the 
soldiers  began  to  bestir  themselves  in  the  town. 

There  was  a man-of-war  lying  in  the  stream,  named  the 
Lively. 

When  the  captain  of  the  Lively  came  upon  deck  and 
scanned  the  pleasant  green  shore  he  was  greatly  astonished 
at  the  sight  which  met  his  eyes. 

What  are  the  Yankees  doing  on  the  hill?  ” he  must  have 
asked  excitedly. 

'‘They  have  built  a breastwork,”  some  one  undoubtedly 
answered. 

When  he  was  certain  that  this  was  the  case  he  did  not  wait 
for  orders  as  to  what  to  do. 

He  at  once  gave  the  command, — 

" Fire  ! ” 

The  sound  of  the  guns  from  the  man-of-war  threw  the  town 
into  great  alarm.  The  British  hurried  to  the  shore  and  saw 
a fortification  menacing  them  across  the  narrow  stream. 

The  red-coats  were  at  once  put  in  motion.  Firing  on  the 
new  earthworks  began  from  Copp’s  Hill. 

The  British  held  a council  of  war  immediately.  It  was 
decided  that  an  attack  must  be  made  on  the  new  earthworks 
as  soon  as  the  troops  could  be  set  across  the  stream. 

It  was  a hot  morning,  but  the  tired  Americans  continued 
their  work  with  the  shovels,  and  at  noon,  as  they  saw  the 
preparations  of  the  enemy  to  cross  the  stream,  they  knew 
that  more  dangerous  implements  must  shortly  be  used. 
They  were  reinforced,  about  two  o’clock,  from  the  main  army 
which  was  at  Cambridge. 

At  three  o’clock  General  Howe,  at  the  head  of  three  thou- 
sand men,  was  ready  for  the  attack.  ^ His  troops  came  gayly 
marching  up  the  hill. 


PLAN  OF  THE  BATTLE  OF  BUNKER  HILL. 


UBR^SY 
Of  IHf 

UNIVERSIIY  Of  ILliNOiS 


1775- 


Battle  of  Bunker  HilL 


247 


The  colonial  troops  were  short  of  ammunition.  They 
were,  however,  well  officered.  General  Putnam  was  there ; 
General  Warren ; the  brave  General  Stark. 

Aim  low,”  was  the  order  given,  and  do  not  fire  until 
you  see  the  whites  of  the  enemies’  eyes.” 

The  required  distance  was  at  last  reached  by  the  enemy. 
The  provincials  fired  with  awful  effect.  The  red-coats  reeled 
back  in  confusion. 

The  provincials  shouted,  and  thought  the  battle  already 
won. 

General  Howe  rallied  his  forces,  and  again  the  men  faced 
the  levelled  muskets. 

The  scene  now  became  fearful  indeed.  Charlestown  had 
been  set  on  fire  in  two  places,  and  whole  streets  were  in 
flames.  The  cannon  on  Copp’s  Hill  in  Boston  were  throwing 
their  heavy  iron  balls  across  the  river,  and  the  guns  of  the 
ships-of-war  were  as  active  in  the  stream. 

Amid  the  roar  and  smoke  the  British  army  advanced, 
with  less  confidence  than  before.  Again  came  a raking  fire 
from  the  provincials ; nothing  could  stand  before  it,  every 
bullet  seemed  to  meet  its  mark.  The  enemy  reeled  back 
again,  filled  with  terror,  leaving  on  the  hillside  the  bodies 
of  the  slain. 

The  British  officers  swore.  They  even  pricked  their  men 
with  their  swords.  They  knew  not  what  to  do. 

General  Clinton  crossed  over  from  Boston,  bringing  rein- 
forcements. General  Howe  resolved  to  change  his  plan  of 
attack. 

Now  there  was  terror  in  the  provincial  ranks,  not  on 
account  of  any  lack  of  bravery,  but  because  the  ammunition 
was  nearly  spent. 

Do  not  fire  a musket  until  the  British  are  within  twenty 
yards,”  said  General  Prescott. 

At  that  distance  the  provincials  poured  a deadly  volley 


248  Yoimg  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy ; the  latter  wavered,  but  only 
for  a moment.  The  Red-coats  came  rushing  forward  again  ; 
the  ammunition  of  the  Provincials  was  gone ; the  battle  was 
lost. 

The  Provincials  retreated  under  the  enemy’s  fire ; at  this 
point  the  brave  Warren  fell.  The  survivors  returned  to  Cam- 
bridge, and  the  British  held  the  hill. 

Night  came,  and  the  shadows  fell  on  homes  filled  with 
anxiety,  on  the  wounded  in  their  sufferings,  and  on  the  dead 
whom  the  green  earth  was  soon  to  cover.  There  was  small 
joy  in  the  Province  House  that  night,  for  victory  had  cost 
the  British  too  great  a flow  of  blood.  There  was  despon- 
dency and  distress  in  Cambridge.  The  Provincials,  after  the 
work  of  the  day,  there  slept  their  troubled  sleep.  Merciful 
night ! It  was  the  saddest  that  Boston  ever  had  known,  or 
has  ever  unto  this  time  seen,  — that  night  of  the  i yth  of 
June. 

The  Americans  had  one  hundred  and  fifteen  killed  and 
three  hundred  wounded.  The  British  more  than  two  hun- 
dred killed,  and  more  than  eight  hundred  wounded.  Such 
was  the  British  victory  at  Bunker  Hill. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BUNKER  HILL 


Humble  the  lot,  yet  his  the  race, 

When  Liberty  sent  forth  her  cry, 

Who  thronged  in  conflict’s  deadliest  place. 
To  fight,  — to  bleed,  — to  die  ! 

Who  cumbered  Bunker’s  height  of  red, 

By  hope  through  weary  years  were  led. 
And  witnessed  Yorktown’s  sun 
Blaze  on  a nation’s  banner  spread, 

A nation’s  freedom  won.” 


A.  B.  Street. 


A-  \ 


tv'-  : 

«r 


< 


s. 


, :-•■-* 

1- 

■ , •'.:^ 


' i;':' 


'iU 

IJ 


'♦i'  -I 


;V-' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  BOSTON. 

The  whole  country  was  now  alarmed. 

A congress  of  the  colonies  was  held  at  Philadelphia;  it 
resolved  to  raise  an  army  of  twenty  thousand  men,  and 
George  Washington  was  appointed  commander-in-chief. 

On  the  2d  of  June  Washington  arrived  at  Watertown,  and 
was  welcomed  by  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  On  the 
following  morning  he  rode  in  a phaeton  drawn  by  two  horses 
to  Cambridge. 

His  arrival  at  Cambridge  is  thus  described  in  a private 
letter  written  at  the  time  : — 

Just  before  the  chief  came  into  town,”  says  the  writer, 
the  soldiers  stationed  here  in  Cambridge  were  drawn  up  in 
a straight  line  on  the  Common.  It  was  a very  quaint  sight 
to  behold  some  seven  or  eight  thousand  militia  vieing  with 
each  other  in  the  want  of  waistcoats  and  of  shoes  and  stock- 
ings. As  you  must  imagine,  there  is  a chance  here  for  tailors 
and  cobblers.  . 

‘‘The  line  extended  from  the  elm-tree  opposite  Deacon 
Moore’s  house  ” [the  present  site  of  the  Shepard  Church], 
“which  you  must  not  have  forgotten,  on  account  of  the 
crow’s  nest,  directly  eastward.  . . . Since  the  fight  in  Charles- 
town, the  men  look  more  timid  than  formerly,  and  some, 
indeed,  are  quite  out  of  courage.  The  officers  exercise  small 
control  over  the  soldiery,  and  the  want  of  discipline  is  very 
plain  to  perceive.  . . . 


254 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston^ 


Towards  mid-day  the  chief,  riding  in  a carriage  pulled 
by  two  horses,  and  escorted  by  some  of  the  Safety  Commit- 
tee, came  in  sight.  The  road  was  crowded  with  bystanders, 
and  the  ovation  which  Washington  received  must  have  been 
gratifying  to  him. 

As  he  rode  along,  he  never  so  much  as  looked  to  the 


THE  WASHINGTON  ELM. 


right  or  to  the  left,  but  kept  his  head  erect,  his  eyes  forward, 
with  a demeanor  somewhat  grave  and  lofty.  In  no  whit  did 
he  manifest  a familiar  air,  which  conduct  some  people  mis- 
took for  haughtiness,  which  I do  not  admit. 

Having  advanced  near  by,  the  chief  mounted  a horse, 
received  his  sword,  — it  may  have  been  his  own,  — and  rode 
up  and  down  the  line,  followed  by  the  under  officers.  There 


UBRm 
OF  THf 

UNiVESSIlK  OF  iLllNOfS 


1775-  Washmgton  takes  Command,  257 

was  the  greatest  eagerness  to  see  him  and  to  hear  the  reading 
of  the  commission.  Washington,  by  his  looks,  appeared  to 
esteem  the  army.” 

Washington  took  command  of  the  army  under  the  Old 
Elm  on  Cambridge  Green.  It  was  a king  among  trees  then, 
full  of  foliage  in  the  glowing  midsummer  weather.  It  stands 
on  crutches  by  the  wayside  to-day,  a monarch  discrowned, 
but  beautiful  in  age.  No  one  knows  how  many  winters  have 
whitened  it,  and  how  many  summers  have  clothed  it  with 
green.  Beneath  its  propped-up  boughs  is  a granite  tablet 
that  reads,  — 

Under  This  Tree 
WASHINGTON 
First  Took  Command 

OF  THE 

AMERICAN  ARMY, 

July  3,  1775. 

Washington’s  headquarters  were  at  first  in  the  old  buff- 
colored,  gambrel-roofed  house  which  may  still  be  seen  just 
east  of  the  Common.  In  this  house  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
was  born,  and  here  he  wrote  Old  Ironsides.”  Washing- 
ton’s permanent  headquarters  was  the  house  now  occupied 
by  Henry  W.  Longfellow,  a short  distance  from  Harvard 
Square. 

After  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  General  Putnam  fortified 
Prospect  Hill,  and  covered  the  town  of  Cambridge  from  an 
advance  by  the  enemy.  Works  had  been  thrown  up  on 
Winter  Hill ; these  were  strengthened.  All  the  roads  leading 
out  of  Boston  were  seized  and  guarded.  The  British  took 
possession  of  Dorchester  Heights,  and  strengthened  their 
position  on  Bunker  Hill. 

Quiet  reigned  in  the  hostile  camps.  But  Boston  was 
invested  by  the  Provincials. 

July  passed  with  little  action  in  the  field  by  either  army. 
17 


258  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

In  August  a reinforcement  of  fourteen  hundred  riflemen, 
chiefly  backwoodsmen  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  arrived  in 
the  American  camp.  In  September  Washington  received 
about  three  tons  of  gunpowder  from  Rhode  Island. 

Winter  came,  a severe  one  to  the  Provincials,  a terrible 
one  to  the  British  in  the  invested  city.  Food  there  became 


THE  HOLMES  HOUSE. 


scarce  and  dear ; luxuries  there  were  none ; complaining 
was  everywhere  heard.  To  make  the  supplies  last  as  long  as 
possible  General  Howe  sent  seven  hundred  of  the  poorest 
inhabitants  out  of  the  town.  To  provide  fuel  he  caused 
houses  to  be  demolished. 

Washington,  knowing  the  distress  within  the  town,  now 
began  to  plan  an  assault  upon  it.  It  was  decided  at  a council 


PLAN  OF  THE  INVESTMENT  OF  BOSTON. 


1776-  Seizure  of  Dorchester  Heights.  261 

of  war  to  make  an  attempt  to  seize  Dorchester  Heights,  and 
thus  to  bring  the  enemy  directly  under  the  American  guns. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  deceive  the  British  in 
regard  to  the  point  it  was  intended  to  attack.  With  this 
object,  Washington  ordered  his  troops  to  bombard  the  town 
from  various  hills  on  the  west.  This  attack  began  on  March 
2.  It  continued  for  three  nights,  and  the  British  were  com- 
pletely deceived  by  it,  and  the  Heights  were  left  unpro- 
tected. 

While  they  were  watching  the  bombardment  in  the  west, 
preparations  were  rapidly  made  in  the  south  to  advance  upon 
the  Heights. 

On  the  night  of  the  4th  of  March,  a strong  detachment, 
under  General  Thomas,  set  out  from  Roxbury.  It  was  a 
hazy  but  not  very  cold  winter’s  night.  There  was  little  or 
no  snow  on  the  ground,  which  was,  however,  frozen  hard. 

First  went  eight  hundred  picked  patriots,  who  acted  as  a 
covering  party.  Following  these  were  carts  with  intrenching 
tools,  such  as  pickaxes  and  spades ; then  came  twelve  hun- 
dred men,  as  a working  party,  to  throw  up  breastworks  ; then 
rumbled  along  two  hundred  carts,  with  fascines  (fagots  for 
building  ramparts)  and  bundles  of  hay. 

They  moved  very  silently  and  cautiously ; meanwhile  they 
could  hear  the  roar  of  the  cannon  in  the  west,  where  the 
bombardment  to  distract  the  attention  of  the  British  was 
going  forward.  At  last  they  ascended  the  Heights,  creeping 
up  its  sides.  The  carts  were  arranged  in  convenient  spots, 
and  the  working  party  took  their  tools,  while  the  others  kept 
guard  at  various  points  on  the  hill.  Then  a scene  similar 
\ to  that  on  Bunker  Hill  took  place.  The  task  was  yet  more 
difficult,  for  it  was  winter,  and  the  ground  was  hard. 

The  men  worked  diligently,  plying  their  tools,  and  piling 
up  the  hay  and  fagots,  until  a long,  broad  breastwork  gradu- 
ally rose  on  the  crest  of  the  Heights. 


262  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

With  the  early  dawn  of  morning,  the  British  in  Boston 
saw,  with  amazement  and  dismay,  what  had  been  done  in 
the  night.  There  was  a sort  of  fog,  which  made  the  breast- 
works seem  even  greater  and  more  formidable  than  they 
really  were. 

All  the  hills  around  were  soon  covered  with  spectators. 
General  Howe  at  once  saw  the  great  advantage  which  the 
possession  of  Dorchester  Heights  gave  to  the  patriots.  From 
them,  Washington’s  guns  and  mortars  commanded  the  town, 

and  might  besiege  it 
with  far  better  pros- 
pects of  success. 

The  British  General 
decided  to  lose  no  time 
in  trying  to  re-take  the 
Heights.  He  chose 
two  thousand  of  his 
best  troops,  and  em- 
barked them  on  vessels, 
with  the  object  of  land- 
ing them  below  the  for- 
tified eminence. 

No  sooner  had  they 
got  on  board,  however, 
than  a great  tempest  of 
wind  and  furious  rain  arose.  The  ships  were  driven  into 
port  again,  amid  much  danger  of  being  lost.  Thus  the 
patriot  cause  was  served  by  the  elements,  just  as  it  was  years 
after  at  Yorktown,  where  another  storm  prevented  the  escape 
of  Cornwallis  and  his  army. 

There  was  now  but  one  thing  for  the  British  to  do,  and 
that  was  to  abandon  Boston.  General  Howe  was  afraid  that 
an  assault  would  be  made  before  he  could  get  his  troops 
away ; so  he  sent  a message  to  Washington,  threatening  to 


PINE-TREE  FLAG. 


WASHINGTON’S  TREASURE-CHEST. 


o< 

UKWtAiil  1»  IliJKOtS 


1776. 


Evacuation  of  Boston. 


265 


burn  the  town  if  such  an  assault  was  made.  Meanwhile  the 
patriots  went  on  strengthening  and  extending  their  works  on 
and  around  Dorchester  Heights ; and  on  the  morning  of 
March  17,  Howe  was  more  than  ever  alarmed  to  see  that 
breastworks  had  been  raised  over  night  on  Nook’s  Hill,  a 
place  completely  commanding  the  Neck  and  the  southern 
end  of  Boston. 

He  at  once  called  a council  of  war,  in  which  it  was  resolved 
to  evacuate  Boston  without  delay.  The  British  soldiers  set 
to  plundering  the  linen  and  woollen  shops.  They  hastily 
spiked  their  cannons  and  mortars,  which  they  could  not  carry 
away  with  them,  and  demolished  Castle  William. 

The  ships  in  the  port  were  made  ready  for  departure.  All 
through  the  night  of  the  17th  the  good  people  of  Boston 
saw  strange  movements  going  on.  Troops  were  marching 
silently  through  the  streets  toward  the  wharves.  On  the 
wharves  all  was  hurry  and  bustle. 

Besides  the  soldiers,  very  many  citizens  and  their  families 
were  busily  preparing  to  embark.  These  were  the  Tories,” 

— those  who  took  the  part  of  the  British  in  the  war,  and  who 
feared  to  remain  behind  among  the  indignant  patriots. 

It  was  still  dark  — not  quite  four  o’clock  in  the  morning 

— when  the  signal  was  given  for  the  ships  to  move  away 
from  the  docks ; and  slowly  and  mournfully  this  fleet,  laden 
with  Red-coats,  rode  out  of  Boston  harbor,  to  enter  it  no 
more. 

When  the  morning  light  came  the  citizens  who  crowded 
the  streets,  with  joyful  faces,  found  their  beloved  town  freed 
from  the  soldiers  of  King  George. 

Already  Washington  had  learned  what  was  going  forward, 
and  the  rear-guard  of  Howe  had  scarcely  set  foot  on  board 
ship  before  the  patriot  advance-guard,  with  the  general -in- 
chief at  its  head,  marched  into  the  town,  amid  shouts  and 
cheers  of  eager  welcome. 


266  Young  Folks'  History  of  Bosto7i, 

The  capture  of  Boston  was  hailed  throughout  the  colonies 
with  much  rejoicing.  Congress  thanked  Washington,  and 
ordered  a medal  to  be  struck  in  honor  of  the  event.  The 
Massachusetts  Legislature  passed  an  address  to  the  com- 
mander, in  which  it  was  said,  May  you  still  go  on,  approved 
by  Heaven,  revered  by  all  good  men,  and  dreaded  by  those 
tyrants  who  claim  their  fellow-men  as  their  property.” 

THE  SAD  KING. 

We  are  accustomed  to  find  the  name  of  George  III.  asso- 
ciated with  the  word  tyrant  ” in  the  early  history  of  our 
country.  When  the  writer  was  a boy  he  was  taught  that 
King  George  was  a very  bad  man,  and  he  looked  upon  him 
as  a Henry  VHI.  or  James  II. 

The  king  made  many  stupid  political  mistakes,  or  left 
his  ministry  to  make  them ; but  in  his  private  life  George 
HI.,  a name  in  the  days  of  our  fathers  always  spoken  with 
hate,  was  one  of  the  purest,  kindest,  and  the  best  of  English 
kings. 

His  was  a sad  life,  with  all  of  its  power  and  splendor. 

Let  me  tell  you  some  stories  of  it,  and  you  will  regret  that 
so  good  and  so  sorely  afflicted  a king  should  have  been  led 
to  treat  his  American  colonies  with  injustice. 

The  discipline  of  insanity  has  refined  many  rough  natures 
and  quickened  many  cold  hearts  that  otherwise  might  have 
passed  as  misanthropes  in  the  world.  Among  these  may 
fairly  be  classed  George  HI.  Few  princes,”  says  Lord 
Brougham,  have  been  more  exemplary  in  their  domestic 
habits  or  in  the  offices  of  private  friendship.  But  the  instant 
his  prerogative  was  concerned,  or  his  bigotry  interfered  with, 
or  his  will  thwarted,  the  most  bitter  animosity,  the  most  cal- 
culating coldness  of  heart,  took  possession  of  his  breast  and 
swayed  it  by  turns.”  This  disposition  made  him  unpopular 


1788. 


The  Sad  Kmg, 


267 


at  times,  and  but  for  a correcting  providence  — the  chastise- 
ment of  his  constantly  threatening  affliction  — might  have 
lost  him  his  throne.  His  frequent  mental  distresses  made 
him  humble,  and  kept  his  heart  open  to  the  unfortunate  and 
the  poor.  Lik’e  Lear,  he  could  look  upon  the  meanest  of 
his  subjects  and  say,  — 

“ Expose  thyself  to  feel  what  wretches  feel.” 

The  king  was  first  attacked  by  insanity  in  1765,  when  he 
was  twenty-seven  years  old.  It  was  in  the  spring-time.  As 
is  usual  with  the  first  manifestations  of  disease  of  this  kind, 
when  constitutional,  he  soon  recovered. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  autumn  of  1 788  the  king  appeared 
to  be  nervous  and  restless,  unsettled  in  mind  and  apprehen- 
sive. He  had  often  been  low-spirited  in  recent  years,  which 
had  been  attributed  to  the  loss  of  his  American  colonies. 
Returning  from  a long  ride  one  bright  October  day,  he  hur- 
ried by,  entered  his  apartment  with  an  anxious,  distressed 
look  upon  his  face,  and,  flinging  himself  into  a chair,  burst 
into  tears,  exclaiming,  I am  going  to  be  mad,  and  I wish 
to  God  I might  die  ! ” 

The  sufferings  of  the  king  during  the  first  apprehensive 
days  of  his  malady  were  painful  to  witness,  and  his  conduct 
was  most  humiliating  for  the  monarch  of  a realm  whose 
empire  followed  the  sun.  He  awoke,”  says  one  of  Sheri- 
dan’s correspondents  on  one  occasion,  with  all  the  gestures 
and  ravings  of  a confirmed  maniac,  and  a new  noise  in  imi- 
tation of  the  howling  of  a dog.”  He  seemed  tempted  with 
suicidal  thoughts,  and  required  constant  watchfulness  and 
restraint.  This  morning,”  says  one,  he  made  an  attempt 
to  jump  out  of  the  window,  and  is  now  very  turbulent  and 
incoherent.” 

The  king  grew  worse  during  the  last  days  of  fall.  On  the 
29th  of  November  he  was  removed  to  Kew,  where  he  was  to 


268 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


experience  almost  unspeakable  horrors.  Here  he  grew  worse, 
his  disease  became  settled,  and  the  sad  particulars  of  his 
conduct  during  the  dreary  months  of  December  and  January 
have,  perhaps  with  commendable  prudence,  been  withheld 
from  the  public  eye. 

Distressing  indeed  must  have  been  the  spectacle  presented 
by  the  English  monarch  at  this  period  of  his  incapacity; 
how  distressing  a single  anecdote  will  show.  During  his 
convalescence  some  friends  of  the  royal  household  were  pass- 
ing through  the  palace  accompanied  by  an  equerry,  when 
they  observed  a strait-jacket  lying  in  a chair.  The  equerry 
averted  his  look  as  a mark  of  respect  for  the  king.  The  lat- 
ter, who  had  joined  the  company  present,  observed  the 
movement  and  said, — 

You  need  not  be  afraid  to  look  at  it.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
best  friend  I ever  had  in  my  life.” 

The  recovery  of  the  king  from  his  second  attack  thrilled 
the  nation  with  joy  and  awakened  a spirit  of  loyalty  from  sea 
to  sea.  London,  on  the  night  following  the  day  on  which 
the  king  resumed  his  functions,  was  a blaze  of  light  from  the 
palaces  of  the  West  End  to  the  humblest  huts  in  the  suburbs. 
But  the  great  illumination  was  a rising  splendor,  which  only 
had  its  beginning  here  ; it  flashed  like  a spontaneous  joy 
over  all  the  cities  of  the  realm.  Gala  days  followed  gala 
days,  the  nights  were  festive ; the  release  of  the  king  from 
his  mental  bondage  seemed  to  lighten  all  hearts.  On  the 
23d  of  April  the  royal  family  went  to  the  old  cathedral  of  St. 
Paul’s  in  solemn  state  to  return  thanks  to  God.  It  was  an 
imposing  procession.  The  bells  rung  out,  the  boom  of  the 
cannon  echoed  through  the  mellowing  air,  and  light  strains 
of  music  rose  on  every  hand.  As  the  king  entered  the 
cathedral  between  the  bishops  of  London  and  Lincoln,  the 
voices  of  five  thousand  children  burst  forth  in  grand  chorus, 
God  save  the  king  ! ” 


GEORGE  III. 


UBR?F?Y 
Of  THE 

UNJVERSKY  Of  !LL!NO!S 


1789. 


The  Sad  King, 


271 


At  the  sound  of  the  jubilant  strain,  the  king’s  emotions 
overcame  him.  He  covered  his  face  and  wept. 

I do  now  feel  that  I have  been  ill,”  he  said  to  the  Bishop 
of  London,  as  soon  as  he  could  restrain  his  tears. 

The  joy  of  the  nation  was  sincere.  As  delightful  to  the 
king  must  have  been  the  days  that  followed,  when  he  set 
forth  with  the  queen  and  a part  of  the  royal  family  for  a long 
tour  to  the  west  of  England.  The  roads  were  lined  with 
people  and  spanned  with  arches  of  flowers ; girls  crowned 
with  wreaths  strewed  flowers  in  the  streets  of  the  villages 
through  which  he  passed ; bells  were  rung,  the  bands  were 
out,  all  was  festivity  from  London  to  Weymouth.  Wide 
must  have  been  the  contrast  between  this  new  freedom  and 
good  Dr.  Willis’s  strait-jacket. 

Weymouth  at  this  time  possessed  rare  charms  for  the  king. 
Unvexed  by  ministerial  disputes  and  the  cares  of  state,  free 
from  the  last  shadow  of  the  clouds  that  had  darkened  his 
mind,  with  a humble  heart,  feeling  that  he  was  after  all  but  a 
dependent  man  among  weak  and  dependent  men,  he  joined 
the  peasants  in  their  sports,  he  caressed  their  children,  he 
gave  pious  advice  to  old  women  and  wholesome  counsel  to 
ambitious  lads  and  buxom  lassies ; he  wandered  through  the 
hay-fields  with  the  mowers,  and  was  rocked  by  the  common 
sailors  on  the  foamy  waters  of  Portland  Roads.  His  inter- 
course with  the  peasantry  at  this  period  gave  him  a popu- 
larity that  he  never  outlived. 

The  familiarity  of  notable  monarchs  with  their  poorer  and 
meaner  subjects  has  ever  been  an  engaging  theme  with  the 
historian  and  the  poet.  Thus  we  have  the  child-charming 
stories  of  Henry  VIII.  and  the  miller  of  Dee  ; of  King  John 
and  the  abbot ; of  Edward  IV.  and  the  tanner ; of  Philip  of 
Burgundy  and  the  tinker,  which,  with  some  shifting  of  scenes, 
is  told  in  the  Induction  to  Shakespeare’s  Taming  of  the 
Shrew.  About  few  monarchs  have  so  many  pleasing  anec- 


2/2  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

botes  of  this  kind  been  related  as  about  George  III.  This 
humility  was  a result  of  his  great  afflictions,  and  a most  fortu- 
nate one  for  his  popularity,  since  in  the  eyes  of  the  people 
his  charity  covered  a multitude  of  political  errors. 

After  the  first  beating  of  the  storm  of  affliction  upon  his 
own  head,  he  had  a sensitiveness  that  would  never  allow  him 
to  witness  a scene  of  suffering  without  emotion,  however 
humble  might  be  the  condition  of  the  sufferer.  A volume* 
of  anecdotes  might  be  collected  to  illustrate  this  gentleness 
of  character  when  want  or  woe  was  presented  directly  before 
him.  He  was  walking  one  day,  during  the  hard  winter  of  1 785, 
unbending  his  mind  from  the  cares  of  state,  when  he  chanced 
to  meet  two  little  boys,  who,  not  knowing  whom  they  were 
addressing,  fell  upon  their  knees  in  the  snow,  and,  wringing 
their  hands,  said,  ■ — 

Help  us  ! We  are  hungry ; we  have  nothing  to  eat.” 

Their  pinched  faces  were  wet  with  tears. 

Get  up,”  said  the  king.  Where  do  you  live? ” 

‘‘  Our  mother  is  dead,  and  our  father  lies  sick,  and  we 
have  no  money,  food,  or  fire.” 

Go  home,”  said  the  king,  and  I will  follow  you.” 

They  at  last  reached  a wretched  hovel,  where  the  king 
found  the  mother  dead,  having  perished  for  the  want  of  the 
necessities  of  life,  and  the  wretched  father  ready  to  perish, 
but  still  encircling  with  his  bony  arm  the  deceased  partner 
of  his  woes.  The  king’s  eye  moistened,  and  he  hurried  back 
to  the  Queen’s  Lodge  and  related  to  the  queen  what  he  had 
seen.  He  not  only  immediately  relieved  the  present  neces- 
sities of  the  family,  but  gave  orders  that  the  boys  should  be 
supported  and  educated  from  the  royal  bounty. 

George  HI.  was  fond  of  children.  All  crazy  people  are, 
in  their  better  moods.  Walking  one  day  near  Windsor,  he 
met  a stable-boy,  and  asked,  — 

Well,  boy,  what  do  you  do,  and  what  do  they  pay  you?” 


\ 


I 


lUiHOlS 


i8oo.  The  Sad  King,  273 

help  in  the  stable,  sir;  but  they  only  give  me  my 
victuals  and  clothes/’ 

Be  content,”  said  the  king,  in  a philosophical  mood  : 
‘^/can  have  nothing  more.” 

He  was  accustomed  to  refer  to  the  loss  of  my  x'\merican 
colonies  ” with  sadness,  but  we  do  not  know  that  he  ever 
condemned  the  policy  of  his  advisers,  Lord  Bute,  Grenville, 
and  Lord  North. 

The  king  surpassed  all  other  monarchs  in  the  whimsical 
play  of  » good  Haroun  Alraschid.”  He  loved  nothing  bet- 
ter than  to  meet  his  poorer  and  meaner  subjects  incognito, 
and  learn  their  good  opinion  of  him.  He  once  played  the 
part  of  Saxon  Alfred  as  well  as  that  of  the  Persian  caliph, 
and  turned  a piece  of  meat  in  a cottage.  When  the  old 
woman  returned,  what  was  her  delight  at  finding  a royal  note, 
with  an  inclosure.  It  ran,  Five  guineas  to  buy  a jack.” 

Among  the  statesmen  of  his  reign  favorable  to  the  Ameri- 
can cause  were  Fox,  Pitt,  and  Burke.  The  Earl  of  Chatham 
was  a friend  to  America  until  France  espoused  the  cause  of 
the  colonies.  He  fell  dead  while  speaking  on  the  American 
question. 

Age  as  well  as  trouble  at  last  battered  the  strong  form  of 
the  king,  and  his  life  became  more  Lear-like  as  the  twilight 
shadows  began  to  fall.  His  sympathies  seemed  to  take  a 
wider  range,  and  his  charity  to  gather  new  sweetness,  as  the 
evening  of  age  came  on.  In  1786  a poor  insane  woman, 
named  Margaret  Nicholson,  attempted  to  assassinate  him  as 
he  was  in  the  act  of  stepping  from  his  carriage.  The  king, 
on  finding  that  she  was  insane,  remembered  his  own  frailty, 
spoke  of  her  with  great  pity,  and  tried  to  disarm  the  popular 
prejudice  against  her.  In  1790  John  Frith,  an  insane  man, 
attempted  the  king’s  life,  and  another  lunatic  shot  at  him  in 
1800,  for  each  of  whom  the  king  was  moved  to  extreme  pity 
when  he  understood  the  nature  of  their  malady. 


274  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

George  III.  had  fifteen  children.  His  favorite  was  the 
Princess  Amelia.  In  her  early  days  she  was  a gay,  light- 
hearted girl ; but  as  she  grew  older  she  became  affectionate 
and  reflective,  yielding  to  the  deeper  sentiments  of  her  emo- 
tional nature,  and  making  herself  the  companion  of  the  king 
ill  his  decline.  She  once  told  her  experience  in  life  in  two 
fair  stanzas,  that  have  been  preserved  : — 


“ Unthinking,  idle,  wild,  and  young, 

I laughed  and  danced  and  talked  and  sung, 

And,  proud  of  health,  of  freedom  vain. 

Dreamed  not  of  sorrow,  care,  or  pain, 

Concluding,  in  those  hours  of  glee, 

That  all  the  world  was  made  for  me. 

“ But  when  the  hour  of  trial  came, 

When  sickness  shook  this  trembling  frame, 

When  folly’s  gay  pursuits  were  o’er. 

And  I could  sing  and  dance  no  more. 

It  then  occurred  how  sad ’t  would  be 
Were  this  world  only  made  for  me.” 

In  1 8 10  she  was  attacked  with  a lingering  and  fatal  illness. 
Her  sufferings  at  times  were  heart-rending  to  witness,  but 
her  sublime  confidence  in  God  kept  her  mind  serene,  and 
brought  the  sweetest  anticipations  of  another  and  a better 
world. 

The  old  king  lingered  by  her  bedside,  her  affectionate 
watcher  and  nurse.  They  talked  together  daily  of  Christ,  of 
redemption,  and  of  the  joys  of  heaven.  ^^The  only  hope  of 
the  sinner  is  in  the  blood  and  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Do  you  feel  this  hope,  my  daughter?  Does  it  sustain 
you?” 

‘‘  Nothing,”  says  an  English  clergyman  who  witnessed 
these  interviews,  “ can  be  more  striking  than  the  sight  of  the 
king,  aged  and  nearly  blind,  bending  over  the  couch  on 


i8ii.  The  Sad  King.  275 

which  the  princess  lies,  and  speaking  to  her  of  salvation 
through  Christ  as  a matter  far  more  interesting  than  the  most 
magnificent  pomps  of  royalty.’' 

As  she  grew  weaker,  he  caused  the  physicians  to  make  a 
statement  of  her  condition  every  hour.  When  he  found  her 
sinking,  the  old  dejection  and  gloom  began  to  overcast  his 
mind  again.  He  felt,  like  Lear,  that  he  had  one  true  heart  to 
love  him  for  himself  alone.  This  love  was  more  precious  to 
him  than  crowns  and  thrones.  The  world  offered  nothing  to 
him  so  sweet  as  her  affection.  She  was  his  Cordelia.  One 
gloomy  day  a messenger  came  to  the  king’s  room  to  announce 
that  Amelia  had  breathed  her  last.  It  was  too  much  for  the 
king  : reason  began  to  waver  and  soon  took  its  flight.  This 
was  caused  by  poor  Amelia,”  he  was  heard  saying,  as  the 
shadows  deepened  and  the  dreary  winter  of  age  came  stealing 
on. 

“ Thou  ’It  come  no  more, 

Never,  never,  never,  never,  never  ! ” 

This  was  in  1810.  The  remaining  ten  years  of  his  life 
were  passed,  with  the  exception  of  few  .brief  intervals,  in  the 
long  night  of  mindlessness,  and  the  last  eight  years  were  still 
more  deeply  shadowed  by  the  loss  of  sight.  In  May,  18 ii, 
he  appeared  once  outside  of  the  castle  of  Windsor,  and 
henceforth  the  people  saw  him  no  more.  Thackeray  repre- 
sents him  as  withdrawn  from  all  eyes  but  those  that  watched 
his  necessities,  in  silence  and  in  darkness,  crownless,  throne- 
less, sceptreless ; there  was  for  him  neither  sun,  moon,  nor 
stars,  empire,  wife,  nor  child.  The  seasons  came  and  went. 
— the  springtime  lighted  up  the  hills  and  autumn  withered 
the  leaves,  the  summer  sunshine  dreamed  in  the  flowers  and 
the  snows  of  winter  fell ; battles  were  fought ; Waterloo 
changed  the  front  of  the  political  world ; Napoleon  fell ; the 
nation  was  filled  with  festive  rejoicings  over  the  battles  of 
Vittoria,  the  Pyrenees,  and  Toulouse,  but  he  was  oblivious 


2/6  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

of  all.  His  sister  died,  his  beloved  queen  died,  his  son,  the 
Duke  of  Kent,  died,  — but  he  knew  it  not.  He  was  often 
confined  in  a padded  room  ; his  beard  grew  long ; he  seemed 
like  a full  personification  of  the  character  of  Lear.  Once  he 
was  heard  rep'eating  to  himself  the  sad  lines  of  Samson 
Agonistes,  — 

Oh,  dark,  dark,  dark  ! Amid  the  blaze  of  noon. 
Irrecoverably  dark  ! Total  eclipse. 

Without  all  hope  of  day  ! ” 

Some  incidents  of  this  period  are  very  touching.  One  day, 
while  his  attendants  were  leading  him  along  one  of  the  pas- 
sages of  the  castle,  he  heard  some  one  draw  quickly  aside. 
‘‘Who  is  there?”  asked  the  king. 

He  was  answered  in  a well-known  voice. 

“ I am  now  blind,”  said  the  king. 

“ I am  very  sorry,  please  your  Majesty.” 

“ But,”  continued  the  king,  “ I am  quite  resigned ; for 
what  have  we  to  do  in  this  world  but  to  suffer  as  well  as  to 
perform  the  will  of  the  Almighty?  ” 

Music  seemed  to  collect  his  thoughts  and  soothe  his  feel- 
ings, and  the  piano  and  harpsichord  were  his  favorite  instru- 
ments. In  i8ii  he,  for  the  last  time,  made  the  selection  of 
pieces  for  a grand  sacred  concert.  It  comprised  Handel’s 
famous  passages  descriptive  of  madness  and  blindness,  the 
lamentation  of  Jephthah  on  the  loss  of  his  daughter,  and  the 
list  ended  with  “ God  save  the  King.”  The  performance  of 
the  last  moistened  all  eyes,  after  what  had  gone  before. 

Thus  passed  the  last  ten  years  of  the  monarch’s  life,  in  a 
gradual  decline,  amid  an  obscurity  lighted  by  occasional 
gleams  of  reason  and  always  full  of  the  keenest  pathos ; 
until,  in  1820,  The  great  bell  of  St.  Paul’s  announced  his 
final  release. 

' The  popularity  of  George  HI.  in  England  was  largely  due 


1 820. 


The  Sad  King, 


279 


to  his  humble  piety,  and  to  his  familiarity  with  his  poorer 
and  meaner  subjects.  Each  of  these  characteristics  was  the 
result,  in  a measure,  of  his  mental  misfortunes.  It  was  be- 
cause the  king  never  dared  to  forget  that  he  was  a man,  that 
the  people  always  loved  to  remember  that  he  was  a king. 


“ The  torch  of  freedom  God  has  lit 
Burns  upward  for  the  Infinite, 

And  through  all  hindrances  it  will 
And  must  and  shall  burn  upward  still ; 

And  all  whose  hands  would  hold  the  torch 
Inverted,  must  to  ashes  scorch  ; 

And  they  who  stay  its  heavenward  aim 
Shall  shrivel,  like  the  fly,  in  flame ! ’ ’ 

Gerald  Massey. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THE  STORY  OF  HOLLIS  STREET  MEETING-HOUSE  AND 
CURIOUS  OLD  MATHER  BYLES,  THE  ROYALIST. 

You  may  see 
the  tall  spire  of  the 
new  Hollis  Street 
Church  from  al- 
most any  point  of 
the  city.  The  Stars 
and  Stripes  used  to 
wave  from  it  in  the 
days  of  the  war. 

This  church  is 
as  a monument  to 
several  men  in  Bos- 
ton’s history.  Here 
John  Pierpont  fought  his  grand  battle  for  temperance  against 
the  wealthy  members  of  his  society  who  stored  their  wine- 
casks  even  in  the  church’s  cellar.  Here  Starr  King  poured 
forth  his  fiery  eloquence,  — a man  who  had  the  heart  of 
hearts,  and  whom  Whittier  in  his  sonnet  to  him  well  says  was 
beloved  as  few  men  ever  were,  and  for  whom  Mt.  Starr  King  is 
an  eternal  memorial. 

Most  people  are  familiar  with  one  or  more  of  Pierpont’s 
poems,  and  have  seen  them,  if  nowhere  else,  in  that  wonder- 
ful patron  of  poetic  fame, — the  reading-book.  We  seldom 
see  Hollis  Street  Church  spire  without  recalling  a poem  of 


THE  OLD  HOLLIS  STREET  CHURCH. 


284  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 

this  writer,  which  seems  to  have  come  to  him  like  an  inspira- 
tion. He  became  pastor  of  the  church  in  1819.  Our  own 
country  was  just  entering  upon  an  era  of  peace  and  prosper- 
ity, and  all  eyes  were  turned  to  the  political  events  of  Europe, 
where  the  throne  of  Napoleon  had  lately  fallen.  The  mili- 
tary pageant  of  France  was  being  withdrawn  from  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  and  the  nations  were  fast  undoing  all  Napoleon 
had  done.  The  Emperor  himself  died,  and  was  buried  at 
St.  Helena  amid  the  solitudes  of  the  sea,  where  he  had  passed 
his  last  unquiet  years. 

Pierpont’s  heart  was  in  human  progress,  and  the  fall  of 
Napoleon  seemed  to  him  an  impressive  commentary  on  the 
instability  of  military  glory.  Many  poets  were  inspired  to 
take  a text  from  Napoleon’s  fall,  but  Pierpont  caught  the  true 
spirit  of  the  event,  as  Byron  did  of  Waterloo,  and  there  is 
hardly  anything  in  the  language  more  fine  than  his  lines  en- 
titled — 


NAPOLEON  AT  REST. 

His  falchion  flashed  along  the  Nile ; 

His  hosts  he  led  through  Alpine  snows  ; 

O’er  Moscow’s  towers,  that  blazed  the  while, 
His  eagle  flag  unrolled,  — and  froze. 

Here  sleeps  he  now,  alone  ! Not  one 
Of  all  the  kings  whose  crowns  he  gave 

Bends  o’er  his  dust ; — nor  wife  nor  son 
Has  ever  seen  or  sought  his  grave. 

Behind  this  sea-girt  rock,  the  star 
That  led  him  on  from  crown  to  crown 

Has  sunk  ; and  nations  from  afar 
Gazed  as  it  faded  and  went  down. 

High  is  his  couch  ; the  ocean  flood. 

Far,  far  below,  by  storms  is  curled  ; 

As  round  him  heaved,  while  high  he  stood, 

A stormy  and  unstable  world. 


FROM  BONNER’S  MAP,  'IJ22. 


.;vS 


1777- 


Mather  Byles, 


287 


Alone  he  sleeps  ! The  mountain  cloud, 

That  night  hangs  round  him,  and  the  breath 
Of  morning  scatters,  is  the  shroud 

That  wraps  the  conqueror’s  clay  in  death. 

Pause  here  ! The  far-off  world,  at  last, 

Breathes  free  ; the  hand  that  shook  its  thrones, 
And  to  the  earth  its  mitres  cast. 

Lies  powerless  now  beneath  these  stones. 

Hark  ! comes  there,  from  the  pyramids, 

And  from  Siberian  wastes  of  snow, 

And  Europe’s  hills,  a voice  that  bids 

The  world  he  awed  to  mourn  him  ? — No : 

The  only,  the  perpetual  dirge 

That ’s  heard  there  is  the  sea-birds’  cry, 

The  mournful  murmur  of  the  surge. 

The  cloud’s  deep  voice,  the  wind’s  low  sigh. 


The  first  pastor  of  Hollis  Street  Church  was  a poet,  curious 
old  Mather  Byles,  who  assumed  his  clerical  duties  in  1733. 
He  was  a very  popular  minister  before  the  Revolution,  and 
he  had  an  English  as  well  as  European  reputation  as  a poet, 
and  numbered  among  his  correspondents  Lansdown,  Dr. 
Watts,  and  Pope,  the  latter  of  whom  sent  him  one  of  the 
first  copies  of  his  translation  of  the  Odyssey. 

Byles  declared  himself  a Tory  at  the  beginning  of  the  Rev- 
olution, and  his  reputation  immediately  vanished.  In  1777 
he  was  denounced  in  Boston  town-meeting,  and  was  ordered 
to  be  confined  in  his  own  house,  which  stood  at  the  corner 
of  Nassau  and  Tremont  Streets,  and  a guard  was  stationed 
over  his  door.  The  guard  was  accustomed  to  pace  backward 
and  forward  in  a pompous  way,  as  though  performing  a duty 
of  very  great  responsibility. 

One  day  Byles  came  to  the  door  and  asked  him  to  go  on 
an  errand  for  him. 


288 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


I will  stand  guard  while  you  are  gone/’  said  he,  taking 
the  sentinel’s  gun,  and  pacing  back  and  forth  in  front  of  his 


own  house  in  the  same 
important  way  the  guard 
had  done.  The  senti- 
nel did  the  errand,  and 
in  the  meantime  Byles 
excited  the  laughter  of 
every  one  on  the  street 
by  the  way  in  which 
he  stood  guard  over 
himself  and  his  house. 


Another  guard  was 
appointed  who  could 
not  be  persuaded  to 
change  places  with 
the  man  he  was  guard- 
ing, and  at  last,  the 
thing  becoming  quite 
ridiculous,  the  guard 


was  removed  entirely.  When  Byles  saw  this  he  said,  — 

I have  been  guarded,  reguarded,  and  now  I am  disre- 
garded,” and  disregarded  he  lived  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Old-time  Boston  was  full  of  anecdotes  of  this  witty  parson, 
and  an  early  Boston  poet  has  left  the  following  photograph 
of  him  in  two  rather  acrimonious  stanzas  : — 


‘ ‘ Here ’s  punning  Byles  provokes  our  smiles, 
A man  of  stately  parts, 

He  visits  folks  to  crack  his  jokes, 

Which  never  mend  their  hearts. 

“With  strutting  gait  and  wig  so  great 
He  walks  along  the  streets, 

And  throws  out  wit,  or  what ’s  like  it, 

To  every  one  he  meets.” 


1777- 


Mather  Bytes. 


289 


In  1780  the  famous  Dark  Day  occurred,  and  a frightened 
lady  sent  her  son  to  Parson  Byles  to  inquire  the  cause  of  the 
appalling  obscurity. 

''  I don’t  know,”  said  Byles,  whose  habit  of  joking  was  too 
chronic  to  be  set  aside  even  at  the  prospect  of  the  near  ap- 
proach of  the  judgment  day.  Go  home  and  tell  your  mother 
I am  just  as  much  in  the  dark  as  she  is.” 

When  the  great  religious  awakening  in  England,  under  the 
preaching  of  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield,  began  to  excite  the 
attention  of  the  colonies,  the  Methodists  were  known  in  this 
country  as  New  Lights,”  and  Methodist  revivals  were  called 
the  New  Light  stir.  One  day  a ship  arrived  in  Boston  har- 
bor with  three  hundred  street-lamps,  and  on  the  same  day  a 
gossiping  lady  called  on  Dr.  Byles,  whose  visit  he  wished  to 
cut  short  by  some  startling  intelligence. 

Have  you  heard  the  news?  ” he  asked  of  his  visitor. 

‘‘What  news?”  asked  the  lady. 

“ Three  hundred  new  lights  have  just  arrived  in  a ship 
from  London,  and  the  selectmen  have  ordered  them  to  be 
put  in  irons,”  which  astonishing  bit  of  news,  we  suppose,  the 
good  woman  spread  through  the  town. 

He  once  courted  a lady  who  refused  his  hand  and  married 
a man  by  the  name  of  Quincy.  He  met  her  after  her  mar- 
riage and  greeted  her  blandly  : — 

“ So  it  seems,  madam,  that  you  prefer  the  Quincy  to 
Byles.” 

“Yes,”  said  the  lady,  “for  if  there  had  been  any  affliction 
worse  than  Byles,  God  would  have  sent  it  upon  Job.” 

He  remarked,  on  seeing  the  lower  tier  of  windows  in  King’s 
Chapel,  which  were  in  his  day  the  same  as  now,  “ I have 
often  heard  of  the  canons  of  the  church,  but  I never  heard 
of  the  port-holes  before.” 

But  though  he  was  so  witty  in  conversation,  his  poetry  has 
much  of  dignity  and  strength.  For  example,  take  his  New 
England  Hymn : — 


290 


Young  Folks  History  of  Bosto7i. 


“To  Thee  the  tuneful  anthem  soars, 

To  Thee,  our  fathers’  God  and  ours. 

This  wilderness  we  chose  our  seat ; 

To  rights  secured  by  equal  laws 
From  persecution’s  iron  claws, 

W e here  have  sought  our  calm  retreat 

“ See ! how  the  flocks  of  Jesus  rise, 

See  ! how  the  face  of  Paradise 

Blooms  through  the  thickets  of  the  wild. 
Here  Liberty  erects  her  throne ; 

Here  Plenty  pours  her  treasures  down ; 
Peace  smiles,  as  heavenly  cherubs  mild. 


“ Lord,  guard  thy  favors  ; Lord,  extend 
Where  further  western  suns  descend  ; 

Nor  southern  seas  the  blessings  bound; 

Till  Freedom  lift  her  cheerful  head. 

Till  pure  Religion,  onward  spread. 

And  beaming,  wrap  the  world  around.” 

- Near  Hollis  Street  Church,  in  the  house  where  Byles  lived, 
his  two  eccentric  daughters  continued  to  live  until  1835. 
The;se  ladies  remained  Royalists  until  the  day  of  their  death. 
They  used  to  go  to  church  in  the  dresses  of  the  last  century, 
they  blew  their  fire  with  the  old-time  colonial  bellows,  and 
ate  from  the  table  from  which  Franklin  had  used  to  take  his 
tea.  In  1835  ordered  a part  of  the  house  to  be 

taken  down,  in  order  to  widen  the  street,  which  caused  one 
of  these  ancient  ladies  so  much  grief  that  she  is  said  to  have 
died  in  consequence. 


“ O,  is  not  this  a holy  spot  ? 

’T  is  the  high  place  of  Freedom’s  birth ! 

God  of  our  fathers,  is  it  not 

The  holiest  spot  of  all  the  earth  ? 

“ Quenched  is  thy  flame  on  Horeb’s  side ; 

The  robber  roams  o’er  Sinai  now ; 

And  those  old  men,  thy  seers,  abide 
No  more  on  Zion’s  mournful  brow. 

“ But  on  ihis  hill  thou.  Lord,  hast  dwelt 

Since  round  its  head  the  war-cloud  curled. 

And  wrapped  our  fathers,  where  they  knelt 
In  prayer  and  battle  for  a world. 

“ Here  sleeps  their  dust : ’tis  holy  ground, 

And  we,  the  children  of  the  brave. 

From  the  four  winds  are  gathered  round, 

* To  lay  our  offering  on  their  grave. 

“ Free  as  the  winds  around  us  blow. 

Free  as  the  waves  below  us  spread. 

We  rear  a pile  that  long  shall  throw 
Its  shadow  on  their  sacred  bed. 

“ But  on  their  deeds  no  shade  shall  fall 

While  o’er  their  couch  thy  sun  shall  flame. 

Thine  ear  was  bowed  to  hear  their  call. 

And  thy  right  hand  shall  guard  their  fame.” 

On  laying  the  Corner-Stone  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  — Pierpont. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


FREEDOM  AND  PROSPERITY. 

The  evacuation  of  Boston  was  the  end  of  the  Revolutionary 
War  on  the  soil  of  that  city.  The  colonies  declared  their 
independence  in  1776,  and  the  contest  for  liberty  went  on 
with  varying  fortunes  until  the  surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis 
at  Yorktown,  but  Massachusetts  blood  was  shed  elsewhere 
and  not  here. 

The  government  of  the  colony  now  returned  to  its  primi- 
tive form, — the  election  of  a Legislature,  or  General  Court,  by 
the  people,  to  manage  all  public  affairs.  In  1780  Massachu- 
setts adopted  a constitution,  and  under  it  John  Hancock  was 
elected  governor. 

Peace  between  England  and  America  was  declared  in  1782. 
In  1787  the  United  States  Constitution  was  framed,  and 
under  it  George  Washington  was  elected  President  in  1789. 

The  same  year  Washington,  shortly  after  his  election, 
visited  Boston,  and  was  received  with  great  rejoicing. 

In  1822  Boston  became  a city. 

Lafayette,  the  friend  of  Washington,  whose  coming  to 
America  during  the  Revolution  gave  hope  to  the  colonies  in 
the  darkest  period  of  the  contest,  and  who  rendered  America 
great  service  both  in  councils  of  war  and  on  the  battle-field, 
visited  Boston  in  1825,  and  in  his  presence  the  corner-stone 
of  Bunker  Hill  Monument  was  laid,  on  the  17th  June. 

The  scene  on  that  day  was  not  forgotten  by  the  generation 


294 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 


that  witnessed  it.  Mr.  Frothingham,  in  his  History  of  the 
Siege  of  Boston,  vividly  describes  the  day  and  a part  of  the 
ceremony : — 

This  celebration  was  unequalled  in  magnificence  by  any- 
thing of  the  kind  that  had  been  seen  in  New  England.  The 
morning  proved  propitious.  The  air  was  cool,  the  sky  was 
clear,  and  timely  showers  the  previous  day  had  brightened 
the  vesture  of  Nature  into  its  loveliest  hue. 

Delighted  thousands  flocked  into  Boston  to  bear  a part 
in  the  proceedings,  or  to  witness  the  spectacle.  At  about 
ten  o’clock  a procession  moved  from  the  State  House  towards 
Bunker  Hill.  The  military,  in  their  fine  uniforms^  formed  the 
van.  About  two  hundred  veterans  of  the  Revolution,  of  whom 
forty  were  survivors  of  the  battle,  rode  in  barouches  next  to 
the  escort.  These  venerable  men,  the  relics  of  a past  gener- 
ation, with  emaciated  frames,  tottering  limbs,  and  trembling 
voices,  constituted  a touching  spectacle.  Some  wore,  as  hon- 
orable decorations,  their  old  fighting  equipments,  and  some 
bore  the  scars  of  still  more  honorable  wounds.  Glistening 
eyes  constituted  their  answer  to  the  enthusiastic  cheers  of  the 
grateful  multitudes  who  lined  their  pathway  and  cheered  their 
progress. 

To  this  patriot  band  succeeded  the  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment Association  ; then  the  Masonic  Fraternity,  in  their  splen- 
did regalia,  thousands  in  number ; then  Lafayette,  continually 
welcomed  by  tokens  of  love  and  gratitude,  and  the  invited 
guests  ; then  a long  array  of  societies,  with  their  various  badges 
and  banners.  It  was  a splendid  procession,  and  of  such 
length  that  the  front  nearly  reached  Charlestown  Bridge  ere 
the  rear  had  left  Boston  Common.  It  proceeded  to  Breed’s 
Hill,  where  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Freemasons,  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Monument  Association,  and  General  Lafayette 
performed  the  ceremony  of  laying  the  corner-stone  in  the 
presence  of  a vast  concourse  of  people.” 


1825. 


Daniel  Webster  s Oration, 


295 


Daniel  Webster,  then  at  the  beginning  of  his  great  fame, 
delivered  the  oration.  It  was  one  of  the  finest  products  of 
American  eloquence.  In  closing,  he  said,  — 

We  come,  as  Americans,  to  mark  the  spot  which  must 
forever  be  dear  to  us  and  our  posterity.  We  wish  that  who- 
soever, in  all  coming  time,  shall  turn  his  eye  hither,  may  be- 
hold that  the  place  is  not  undistinguished  where  the  first 
great  battle  of  the  Revolution  was  fought.  We  wish  that  this 
structure  may  proclaim  the  magnitude  and  importance  of  that 
event  to  every  class  and  every  age.  We  wish  that  infancy  may 
learn  the  purpose  of  its  erection  froni  maternal  lips,  and  that 
wearied  and  withered  age  may  behold  it,  and  be  solaced  by 
the  recollections  which  it  suggests.  We  wish  that  labor  may 
look  up  here  and  be  proud  in  the  midst  of  its  toil.  We 
wish  that  in  those  days  of  disaster,  which,  as  they  come  on 
all  nations,  must  be  expected  to  come  on  us  also,  desponding 
patriotism  may  turn  its  eyes  hitherward  and  be  assured  that 
the  foundations  of  our  national  power  still  stand  strong. 

We  wish  that  this  column,  rising  toward  heaven  among 
the  pointed  spires  of  so  many  temples  dedicated  to  God,  may 
contribute  also  to  produce  in  all  minds  a pious  feeling  of  de- 
pendence and  gratitude.  We  wish,  finally,  that  the  last  object 
on  the  sight  of  him  who  leaves  his  native  shore,  and  the 
first  to  gladden  his  who  revisits  it,  may  be  something  which 
shall  remind  him  of  the  liberty  and  the  glory  of  his  country. 
Let  it  rise  till  it  meet  the  sun  in  his  coming ; let  the  earliest 
light  of  the^  morning  gild  it,  and  parting  day  linger  and  play 
on  its  summit ! ’’ 

Rev.  Ray  Palmer,  then  a youth,  was  present,  and  he  has 
kindly  allowed  us  to  republish  his  recollections  of  the  event. 


296 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


MEMORIES  OF  BUNKER  HILL. — JUNE  I 7,  1825. 

Of  those  who  were  present  when  the  corner-stone  of  the 
Bunker  Hill  Monument  was  laid,  more  than  half  a century 
ago,  but  few,  comparatively,  now  survive. 

Lafayette,  the  hero  of  two  worlds,  died  in  a good  old  age 
not  many  years  after.  Daniel  Webster,  the  illustrious  orator 
and  statesman,  worn  out  with  public  labors,  was  many  years 
since  laid  in  his  sepulchre. 

All  the  then  surviving  participators  in  the  scenes  of  the 
Revolution  have  passed  away.  A limited  number  only,  it  is 
probable,  even  of  those  who  constituted  the  younger  part  of 
the  vast  assembly  gathered  there,  still  live  and  keep  in  mem- 
ory the  details  of  what  was  done. 

It  has  been  suggested  to  the  writer,  who  was  himself  pres- 
ent, and  retains  the  freshest  recollection  of  persons  and 
things,  that  a brief  account  of  the  occurrences  of  that  inter- 
esting day  would  be  a valuable  piece  of  history.  Such  a 
sketch  — of  course  it  must  be  little  more  than  an  outline  — 
he  will  accordingly  attempt  to  give. 

First  of  all,  we  may  bring  back  in  our  thought  the  Boston 
and  the  Charlestown  of  that  date. 

Boston  had  only  some  three  years  before  been  made  a city, 
with  a population  of  not  far  from  fifty  thousand.  Its  business 
area  was  comparatively  small.  Immediately  in  the  rear  of 
the  State  House,  and  forming  the  top  of  Beacon  Hill,  there 
was  a large  field  or  common,  since  graded  away,  but  then 
fiat,  and  serving  as  a play-ground  for  the  lovers  of  base-ball. 

The  street  at  the  east  end  of  the  State  House  was  in  the 
condition  of  a country  road,  strewed  with  boulders  and  loose 
stones,  with  a rough  bank  on  either  side. 

Between  the  city  and  the  village  of  Roxbury  there  was 
quite  a piece  of  country  road  called  the  Neck,  with  here  and 
there  a house,  and  the  water  of  the  South  Cove  and  the  W est 


LAFAYETTb 


;r  • r ,■ 


i 


1325.  Memories  of  Bunker  HilL  299 

Bay  visible  at  a short  distance  on  either  hand.  But  one  bridge 
— the  old  wooden  Charlestown  Bridge  — connected  Boston 
with  Charlestown,  which  was  not  then  a city. 

Both  the  heights  of  the  latter  town,  the  one  on  which  the 
battle  was  fought,  and  the  higher  one  to  the  northward,  were 
almost  entirely  naked  fields.  At  the  southwest  part  of  the 
battle-hill  the  houses  pressed  close  around  the  base ; but  the 
whole  battle-ground  and  all  the  eastern  and  northeastern  slope 
were  as  bare  as  when  the  shots  from  the  British  fleet  in  the 
Mystic  River  swept  over  them  on  the  eventful  day  whose 
deeds  are  enshrined  in  history.  It  is  only  by  recalling  the 
surroundings  as  they  were  that  one  can  get  a clear  conception 
of  the  scene  presented  on  the  lyth  of  June,  1825,  and  feel 
the  contrast  between  that  time  and  the  present. 

The  whole  country  anticipated  the  occasion  with  the  most 
lively  interest,  and  many  came  from  great  distances  to  attend 
the  celebration. 

I was  at  that  time  a student  in  Phillips  Academy,  Ando- 
ver. With  two  or  three  classmates  I obtained  leave  of  ab- 
sence, and  retiring  immediately  after  tea  for  a few  hours 
sleep,  we  set  out  at  about  twelve  o’clock  and  walked  to 
Boston,  reaching  the  city  by  seven  in  the  morning.  The  his- 
toric memories  of  the  great  battle,  the  fame  of  the  already 
renowned  orator,  the  presence  of  Lafayette,  the  companion 
and  trusted  friend  of  Washington, — these  were  enough  to 
set  youthful  hearts  aglow,  and  to  awaken  an  almost  romantic 
enthusiasm.  We  were  destined  to  no  disappointment. 

The  procession  moved  over  from  the  summit  to  the  north- 
eastern side  of  the  hill.  A platform  had  been  erected  far 
down  the  slope  and  covered  with  a tent  open  on  the  side 
towards  the  ascent. 

There  the  different  sections  of  the  long  array  were  seated 
in  order,  rank  rising  above  rank,  and  covering  the  hillside  so 
as  to  form  a vast  amphitheatre.  It  was,  indeed,  as  Webster 


300 


Yoiuig  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


said  in  his  first  sentence,  an  uncounted  multitude  ” on 
which  the  orator  looked  when  he  ascended  to  his  position. 

He  himself  was  then  only  in  his  forty-fourth  year,  and  in 
the  perfection  of  that  nobleness  of  person  and  dignity  of  bear- 
ing for  which  he  was  so  renowned.  With  Lafayette  by  his 
side,  and  surrounded  by  so  many  of  the  survivors  of  the  des- 
perate struggle  on  the  spot  where  now  they  stood,  and  of 

other  battle-fields  of  the 
Revolution,  and  by  a 
multitude  of  the  most 
illustrious  men  of  the 
state  and  country,  there 
was  nothing  wanting 
which  could  lend  im- 
pressiveness to  the  oc- 
casion. Altogether  it 
was  a scene  which  no 
one  who  witnessed  was 
likely  ever  to  forget. 

It  was  my  good  for- 
tune, in  the  seating  of 
the  procession,  to  push 
my  way  in  boyish  fash- 
ion to  a seat  on  the 
grass  among  the  highest 
order  of  Masons,  directly  in  front  of  Mr.  Webster,  and  not 
more  than  sixty  or  seventy  feet  from  him. 

I was  in  a position  to  see  perfectly  his  great  glowing  eyes 
and  every  play  of  thought  and  emotion  on  his  face,  and  to 
hear  every  syllable  from  first  to  last.  When  he  rose  to  speak 
there  was  absolute  silence,  notwithstanding  the  multitude. 

A considerable  space  was  left  him  on  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form ; a small  table  was  set  ten  feet  or  more  from  the  place 
where  he  chiefly  stood  to  speak,  and  on  this,  he  laid  his 


DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


1825.  - Memories  of  Bunker  HilL  ^Ol 

manuscript  unopened.  The  entire  address  was  committed 
to  memory ; but  now  and  then  when  he  had  finished  some 
grand  passage,  while  waiting  for  the  resounding  applauses  to 
subside,  he  would  walk  slowly  to  the  table  and  turn  his  leaves 
to  the  point  which  he  had  reached  in  his  discourse. 

The  impression  made  by  his  general  manner  was  that  of 
perfect  self-command.  Not  a nervously  hurried  look  or  mo- 
tion disturbed  the  reposeful  bearing.  His  voice  at  that  period 
of  his  life  was  exactly  one’s  ideal,  — deep,  clear,  full,  flexible, 
capable  of  great  power  without  losing  its  natural  quality,  and 
sympathetically  responsive  to  his  emotions.  He  began  on  a 
natural  key,  but  spoke  so  deliberately  and  with  such  distinct- 
ness of  articulation  that  he  seemed  to  be  heard  to  the  outmost 
lines  of  the  assembly. 

His  speaking,  in  the  variety  of  its  intonations,  was  like  a 
magnificent  talk  from  first  to  last ; rising  often  into  the  noblest 
elocution,  but  never  passing  into  that  declamatory  and  mo- 
notonous vociferation  into  which  so  many  public  speakers 
fall.  Making  every  allowance  for  youthful  susceptibility,  I 
cannot  but  believe  that  few  orators,  in  any  age,  have  furnished 
a finer  specimen  of  discursive  eloquence  than  this. 

It  seems  to  me  some  evidence  of  this  that  after  almost 
fifty-four  years  many  passages  of  that  oration,  with  the  exact 
tone  and  emphasis  and  gesture  with  which  they  were  pro- 
nounced, remain  as  fresh  in  my  memory  as  though  I had 
heard  them  only  yesterday. 

The  clear  and  silvery  ring  of  the  voice,  when  he  cried. 

Let  it  rise  ! — let  it  rise,  till  it  meet  the  sun  in  his  coming ; 
let  the  earliest  light  of  the  morning  gild  it,  and  parting 
day  linger  and  play  on  its  summit ! ” still  echoes  in  my  ear. 

I still  seem  to  hear  him  say  to  the  veteran  survivors  of  the 
battle,  as  they  stood,  warworn  and  infirm,  before  him, — 

Venerable  men  ! . . . the  same  heavens  are  indeed  over 
your  heads ; t^ie  same  ocean  rolls  at  your  feet ; but  all  else, 
how  changed  ! 


302  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 

I still  feel  the  inimitable  tenderness  of  the  minor  key  in 
which  he  uttered  the  pathetic  apostrophe  to  Warren  : ‘‘  But 
ah  ! him  ! the  first  great  martyr  in  this  great  cause  ! Him  ! the 
premature  victim  of  his  own  self-devoting  heart ! . . . Our 
poor  work  may  perish,  but  thine  shall  endure  ! this  monu- 
ment may  moulder  away,  the  solid  ground  it  rests  upon  may 
sink  down  to  a level  with  the  sea ; but  thy  memory  shall  not 
fail ! ” 

I still  feel  the  thrill  stirred  by  the  majestic  power  of  voice 
and  action  with  which,  in  allusion  to  Greece,  then  in  her  rev- 
olutionary struggle,  he  said,  If  the  true  spark  of  religious 
and  civil  liberty  be  kindled,  it  will  burn.  Human  agency 
cannot  extinguish  it.  Like  the  earth’s  central  fire,  it  may  be 
smothered  for  a time  ; the  ocean  may  overwhelm  if ; moun- 
tains may  press  it  down ; but  its  inherent  and  unconquerable 
force  will  heave  both  the  ocean  and  the  land,  and  at  some 
time  or  other,  in  some  place  or  other,  the  volcano  will  break 
out  and  flame  up  to  heaven.’^ 

Such  are  some  of  the  recollections  of  the  scenes  connected 
with  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the  monument  on  Bun- 
ker Hill.  No  intelligent  young  man  or  woman,  it  would 
seem,  can  recall  them,  and  read  Mr.  Webster’s  grand  oration, 
without  a deeper  sense  of  the  value  of  our  free,  civil  and  >*eli- 
gious  institutions,  and  the  price  they  cost  our  venerated  an- 
cestors. 


MONUMENT  GROUNDS. 

The  beautiful  grounds  on  which  Bunker  Hill  Monument 
stands  retain  not  a vestige  of  the  fortifications  of  1 775.  A flat 
granite  stone  marks  the  place  of  the  breastworks,  and  another, 
nearly  at  the  foot  of  the  grounds,  the  spot  where  Warren  fell. 
The  base  of  the  monument  stands  on  the  spot  of  Prescott’s 
famous  ditch,  which  was  dug  on  the  starry  night  in  June,  just 


1825. 


Monument  Groimds. 


303 


before  the  battle.  The  fosse  and  breastworks  were  quite 
prominent  at  the  time  the  foundation  of  the  monument  was 
laid  by  Lafayette,  in  1825,  but  the  building  of  so  stupendous 
a structure  of  granite  on  the  spot  caused  them  to  be  levelled 
and  obliterated. 

A few  incidental  facts  about  the  monument  may  be  of  in- 
terest to  the  stranger.  The  foundation  is  composed  of  six 
courses  of  stone,  and  extends  twelve  feet  below  the  surface  of 
the  ground.  There  are  in  the  whole  pile  ninety  courses 
of  granite  blocks.  The  base  of  the  obelisk  is  thirty  feet 
square,  and  fifteen  feet  at  the  spring  of  the  apex.  The  num- 
ber of  steps  in  the  spiral  stone  stairway  is  two  hundred  and 
ninety- five.  The  cap-piece  of  the  apex,  which  crowns  the 
whole  at  an  elevation  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-one  feet, 
consists  of  a single  stone,  weighing  two  and  a half  tons. 

The  historical  relics  in  the  monument  consist  of  a beautiful 
model  of  Warren’s  statue,  which  was  erected  over  the  spot 
where  the  General  fell,  and  two  cannon  in  the  chamber  of 
the  obelisk,  which  were  used  during  the  war,  and  on  which  is 
inscribed  their  own  history. 

The  remains  of  Warren  were  interred  at  the  place  where 
he  fell.  Here  a monument  was  erected  in  1 794,  of  which 
the  model  is  seen  in  the  monument  on  the  inside  at  the  base. 
After  the  evacuation  of  Boston  the  patriot’s  body  was  disin- 
terred, and  removed  with  impressive  ceremonies  to  King’s 
Chapel.  The  body  was  again  removed  to  St.  Paul’s  Church 
on  Tremont  Street,  and  now  rests  at  Forest  Hills. 


CAMBRIDGE  CHURCHYARD. 

The  monument  to  the  patriots  who  fell  in  1775  Cam- 
bridge Churchyard. 

It  is  a lovely  spot,  full  of  historic  associations,  and  we  will 
speak  of  it  here. 


304 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


The  Vassal  family  sleep  here,  who  built  two  stately  man- 
sions in  Cambridge,  one  of  which  is  known  as  the  Vassal 
House,  now  the  residence  of  Professor  Longfellow.  The 
tomb  of  the  Vassal  family,  which  is  celebrated  in  Holmes’s 
poetry,  is  marked  by  a freestone  tablet  supported  by  five 
pillars,  on  which  are  the  sculptured  reliefs  of  a vase  and  the 
sun, — Vas^  in  the  Latin,  meaning  a vase,  and  Sol^  the  sun, 
and  Vas  Sol  representing  the  ancient  emblems  of  the  family. 
Here  is  the  resting-place  of  the  poet-artist,  Washington 
Allston,  in  the  old  Dana  tomb,  where  he  was  interred  by 
torch-light  one  quiet  midsummer  eve  in  1843. 

Allston  entered  upon  his  life-work  with  a religious  enthusi- 
asm that  ennobled  his  personal  character.  It  is  said  that 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


when  he  first  went  to  England  to  study  painting  he  on  one 
occasion  sold  a certain  picture  to  a nobleman  to  meet  his 
pressing  necessities.  After  he  parted  with  the  picture,  the 


1805. 


Irvmg  and  Allston, 


305 


thought  came  to  him  that  the  moral  influence  of  it  on  a per- 
son with  a perverted  taste  and  prurient  imagination  might  not 
be  good ; the  thought  haunted  him  and  so  wrought  upon  his 
sensitive  conscience  that  he  went  to  the  nobleman  and  re- 
purchased the  picture. 

Washington  Irving  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Allston  in  his 
youth ; they  were  in  Italy  at  the  same  time ; they  visited  the 
studios  of  Rome  together,  and  made  arm-and-arm  walks  to 
those  relics  of  antiquity  that  recall  the  Rome  of  the  Caesars. 
Irving  has  left  a most  beautifully  written  account  of  his  old 
friend,  in  which  he  describes  his  affectionate,  enthusiastic  dis- 
position, and  the  awe  and  reverence  with  which  he  beheld  the 
pictures  of  the  old  masters,  or  walked  about  the  stupendous 
pile  of  St.  Peter’s  where  art  looked  down  on  every  hand. 

His  eyes  would  dilate,”  said  Irving,  his  pale  countenance 
would  flush ; he  would  breathe  quick,  and  almost  gasp,  in 
expressing  his  feelings  when  excited  by  almost  any  object 
of  grandeur  and  sublimity.” 

The  old  house  stands  in  Cambridgeport  where  he  lived ; 
and  the  magnificent  picture  of  Belshazzar’s  Feast,  on  which 
he  spent  the  last  week  and  the  last  day  of  his  life,  may  be 
seen  at  the  Art  Museum. 

The  old-time  presidents  of  Harvard  College  rest  here  in 
crumbling  tombs.  One  of  Dr.  Holmes’s  most  beautiful  poems 
describes  this  churchyard. 

‘ * Go  where  the  ancient  pathway  guides, 

See  where  our  sires  laid  down 
Their  smiling  babes,  their  cherished  brides, 

The  patriarchs  of  the  town. 

Hast  thou  a tear  for  buried  love  ? 

A sigh  for  transient  power? 

All  that  a century  left  above, 

Go,  read  it  in  an  hour.” 


20 


. 

a 


y- 


High  walls  and  huge  the  body  may  confine, 

And  iron  gates  obstruct  the  prisoner’s  gaze, 

And  massive  bolts  may  baffle  his  design, 

And  vigilant  keepers  watch  his  devious  ways ; 

Yet  scorns  th’  immortal  mind  this  base  control ! 

No  chains  can  bind  it,  and  no  cell  enclose : 

Swifter  than  light,  it  flies  from  pole  to  pole. 

And  in  a flash  from  earth  to  heaven  it  goes ! 

It  leaps  from  mount  to  mount,  from  vale  to  vale 
It  wanders,  plucking  honeyed  fruits  and  flowers ; 

It  visits  home  to  hear  the  fireside  tale. 

Or  in  sweet  converse  pass  the  joyous  hours. 

’T  is  up  before  the  sun,  roaming  afar. 

And  in  its  watches  wearies  every  star ! ” 

William  Lloyd  Garrison. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  ANTISLAVERY  STRUGGLE. 

✓ 

About  half  a century  ago  a young  New  England  journalist 
accepted  a position  in  Baltimore. 

The  state  of  society  which  he  beheld  in  that  city  surprised 
and  shocked  him. 

Baltimore  then  was  one  of  the  marts  of  the  domestic  slave 
trade. 

Slave-pens  flaunted  their  signs  upon  the  principal  streets, 
and  vessels  loaded  with  slaves  who  had  been  bred  and  raised 
like  cattle  for  the  market,  were  constantly  departing  for  Mo- 
bile, Savannah,  and  New  Orleans.  Coffles  of  slaves,  chained 
together,  moved  through  the  streets.  The  traffic  in  human 
flesh  was  one  great  business  of  the  day. 

Yet  the  people  engaged  in  raising  slaves  for  the  market 
moved  in  the  best  society,  and  were  members  of  the  leading 
Christian  churches. 

The  young  man  publicly  protested  against  this  great 
wiong. 

He  was  imprisoned  for  making  this  protest. 

On  the  walls  of  his  cell  he  thus  wrote  with  a pencil : — 

“A  martyr’s  crown  is  richer  than  a king’s. 

Think  it  an  honor  with  thy  I.ord  to  bleed, 

And  glory  ’midst  intensest  sufferings ; 

Though  beat,  imprisoned,  put  to  open  shame, 

Time  shall  embalm  and  magnify  thy  name*’’ 


310  Yotmg  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 

That  prophecy  was  to  be  fulfilled. 

But  not  until  after  many  years. 

This  young  man  returned  to  New  England  and  was  the 
leading  mind  of  the  first  Antislavery  Society  in  America, 
which  was  formed  on  ‘‘Nigger  Hill,”  Boston,  in  a school -room 
under  the  African  Baptist  Church,  Jan.  6,  1832. 

There  seem  to  have  been  some  men  “of  property  and 
standing  ” in  Boston  at  this  time  whom  history  will  not  love 
to  remember  by  their  names,  but  will  be  glad  to  mention 
them  merely  as  people  that  have  been. 

Some  of  these  nameless  people,  in  October,  1835,  attacked 
a female  antislavery  meeting.  While  one  of  the  ladies,  Miss 
Mary  S.  Parker,  was  engaged  in  prayer,  we  are  told  that  the 
company  was  assailed  by  “ hisses,  yells,  and  curses,”  sounds 
not  often  heard  in  Boston  to-day  on  any  occasion,  and  never 
from  men  “ of  property  and  position.”  What  great  men  they 
must  have  been  ! 

They  next  threw  the  Testaments  and  Prayer-Books  out  of 
the  window.  They  then  seized  a young  man  who  was  edit- 
ing an  antislavery  paper  in  the  city,  and  coiled  a rope  around 
his  body,  intending  to  drag  him  through  the  streets. 

A cry  was  raised,  — 

“ He  sha’n’t  be  hurt : he  is  an  American  ! ” 

At  this  he  was  beset  by  the  mob,  and  the  clothes  were  torn 
from  his  body. 

He  was  at  last  taken  in  charge  by  the  city  officers,  and 
was  placed  in  jail  for  his  personal  safety. 

This  young  man  was  the  same  who  was  imprisoned  in  Bal- 
timore,— William  Lloyd  Garrison,  — at  the  time  of  this  last 
arrest,  the  editor  of  The  Liberator, 

The  antislavery  society  he  had  formed  proved  the  begin- 
ning of  many  such  societies,  and  the  principles  to  which  the 
young  agitator  devoted  his  life,  and  for  which  he  lived  many 
years  in  poverty,  spread  by  persecution.  This  uncompromis- 
ing young  man  became  a moral  power  in*  the  land. 


MR.  GARRISa\  I\  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  MOB. 


■/i 


1842.  The  Antislavery  Stiniggle.  313 

In  no  single  city  did  the  principles  for  which  he  contended 
gain  a firmer  or  wider  influence  than  in  Boston,  where  he  had 
been  mobbed. 

In  the  autumn  of  1842  George  Latimer,  a native  of  Vir- 
ginia, was  arrested  in  Boston  without  a warrant,  on  the  claim 
that  he  was  a fugitive  slave.  The  case  was  brought  before 
the  courts.  Chief  Justice  Shaw  ruled  that  the  statute  of  the 
United  States  authorized  the  owner  of  the  fugitive  to  arrest 
him  in  any  State  to  which  he  might  have  fled.” 

Latimer  was  held  as  a prisoner  to  await  further  action. 

The  old  spirit  of  the  Revolution  was  revived  again.  The 
city  was  full  of  indignation  at  such  an  infringement  on  the 
rights  of  personal  liberty. 

In  October,  on  the  last  Sabbath  evening  in  the  month,  a 
great  audience  met  in  Faneuil  Hall.  Speeches  were  made 
and  the  citizens  recorded  themselves  as  protesting  : — 

By  all  the  glorious  memories  of  the  Revolutionary  strug- 
gle, 

In  the  names  of  justice,  liberty,  and  right. 

In  the  awful  name  of  God, 

‘‘Against  the  deliverance  of  George  Latimer  into  the  hands 
of  his  pursuers.” 

Letters  in  sympathy  with  the  spirit  of  the  meeting  were 
read  from  John  Quincy  Adams,  George  Bancroft,  and 
others. 

Latimer  was  set  free,  a philanthropist  paying  to  his  owner 
the  price  of  his  freedom. 

The  event  caused  the  question  of  the  moral  right  of  slave- 
holding to  be  everywhere  discussed,  and  the  result  was  a 
growing  sense  of  the  wrong  of  the  institution  of  slavery. 
Some  cf  the  most  brilliant  men  of  Boston  became  eloquent 
advocates  of  the  antislavery  cause.  Among  these  were 
Wendell  Phillips,  Theodore  Parker,  and  Dr.  Samuel  G. 
Howe.  John  G.  Whittier  became  the  poet  of  the  cause, 


314  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

and  young  Charles  Sumner  began  to  bring  to  it  the  weight 
of  his  scholarship  and  convincing  eloquence. 

The  antislavery  societies  prepared  the  way  for  the  Free 
Soil  party,  and  this  party  was  in  turn  the  beginning  of  the 
great  political  movement  against  slavery. 

On  the  3d  of  October,  1850,  there  was  another  exciting 
antislavery  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  at  which  words  of  elec- 
tric and  impassioned  eloquence  were  spoken.  Millard  Fill- 
more had  signed  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  The  Free  Soil 
party,  hitherto  small,  under  the  influence  of  the  popular  in- 
dignation awakened  by  this  law  became  strongly  reinforced. 
It  held  its  convention  on  the  date  and  at  the  place  we  have 
named,  and  was  addressed  by  Charles  Sumner,  who  was  just 
entering  upon  his  public  career. 

Mr.  Sumner’s  condemnation  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law 
was  unsparing  in  the  extreme.  He  said,  — 

Other  presidents  may  be  forgotten,  but  the  name  signed 
to  the  Fugitive  Slave  Bill  can  never  be  forgotten.  There 
are  depths  of  infamy  as  there  are  heights  of  fame.  I regret 

to  say  what  I must, 
but  truth  compels 
me  : better  for  him 
had  he  never  been 
born.” 

A more  exciting 
scene  was  witnessed 
in  Faneuil  Hall  in 
1854.  Anthony 
Burns  had  been  ar- 
rested under  the  Fu- 
gitive Slave  Act  and 
lodged  in  jail.  The 
antislavery  men 
called  a meeting. 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


FIRST  SUBSCRIPTIONS  FOR  SOLDIERS’  FAMILIES 


i86i. 


The  Antislavery  Struggle. 


317 


Theodore  Parker  was  present ; Phillips,  Stowell,  and  Dr. 
Howe.  Such  an  influence  went  from  this  meeting  that  the 
militia  had  to  be  called  out  to  guard  the  Court  House. 

Burns  was  surrendered  to  his  master  on  the  2d  of  June. 
He  was  to  be  taken  from  his  cell  to  the  ship.  The  city  be- 
came feverish  with  excitement.  He  was  conducted  from 
Court  Street  to  the  wharf  in  the  centre  of  a hollow  square  of 
armed  men,  protected  by  the  militia  and  by  cannon.  The 
streets  were  draped  in  black,  the  bells  tolled,  the  expression 
of  public  disapproval  was  so  emphatic  as  to  be  awe-inspiring 
and  terrible. 

The  contest  between  freedom  and  slavery  ended  in  war. 
Fort  Sumter  fell  in  the  spring  of 
1861.  The  whole  North  burned  to 
retrieve  the  nation’s  honor. 

Washington  was  threatened.  On 
the  15  th  of  April  Governor  Andrew 
received  a telegram  from  Washing- 
ton, asking  him  to  send  fifteen  hun- 
dred men  for  the  protection  of  the 
city.  The  answer  of  the  governor 

^ ° FORT  SUMTER. 

to  the  president  was  immediate,  and 

the  response  of  the  militia  to  the  governor’s  call  as  prompt. 
On  the  morning  of  the  i6th  volunteers  began  to  arrive.  The 
State  soon  became  a camp.  The  wealthy  men  of  Boston 
pledged  their  money  for  the  support  of  the  soldiers’  families. 
The  Boston  banks  offered  to  loan  the  State  $3,600,000  with- 
out security,  to  meet  any  emergency  that  might  arise.  On  the 
19th  of  April  — the  Lexington  and  Concord  Day  — the 
6th  Massachusetts  regiment  was  attacked  in  Baltimore  and 
four  of  the  men  were  killed. 

Boston  now  gave  her  resources  to  the  struggle.  At  the 
close  of  the  year  1862  Massachusetts  had  in  active  service 
fifty-three  regiments  of  infantry,  twelve  companies  of  light 


3 1 8 Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

artillery,  three  of  heavy  artillery,  and  one  regiment  and  sev- 
eral companies  of  cavalry. 

In  1864  Governor  Andrew  said  to  the  Legislature,  ^‘Our 
volunteers  have  represented  Massachusetts  during  the  year 


MASSACHUSETTS  SIXTH  IN  BALTIMORE. 


just  ended  on  almost  every  field  and  in  every  department  of 
the  army  where  our  flag  has  been  unfurled,  — at  Chancellors- 
ville,  Gettysburg,  Vicksburg,  Port  Hudson,  and  Fort  Wagner ; 
at  Chickamauga,  Knoxville,  and  Chattanooga ; under  Hooker, 
Meade,  Banks,  Gilmore,  Rosecrans,  Burnside,  and  Grant.  In 
every  scene  of  danger  and  duty,  — along  the  Atlantic  and  the 


1864.  The  Antislavery  Struggle.  319 

Gulf,  on  the  Tennessee,  the  Cumberland,  the  Mississippi, 
and  the  Rio  Grande ; under  Dupont,  Dahlgren,  Foote,  Far- 
ragut,  and  Porter,  — the  sons  of  Massachusetts  have  borne 
their  part,  and  paid  the  debt  of  patriotism  and  valor.’ ^ 
Massachusetts  sent  159,165  of  her  sons  to  the  war. 

On  the  high  ground  of  the  Common  the  tall  shaft  of  the 
Soldiers’  and  Sailors’  Monument  shines  through  the  trees ; 
and  in  the  public  square  from  which  Columbus  Avenue 
stretches  away  amid  streets  and  blocks  of  wealth  and  taste, 
stands  the  Emancipation  Monument,  and  all  good  people 
look  upon  them  both  with  patriotic  pride  as  they  recall  the 
war  record  of  Boston  and  Massachusetts. 

“ Truth  crushed  to  earth  shall  rise  again, 

The  eternal  years  of  God  are  hers.’^ 


“ O,  MANY  a time  it  hath  been  told, 

The  story  of  those  men  of  old : 

For  this  fair  Poetry  hath  wreathed 
Her  sweetest,  purest  flower ; 

For  this  proud  Eloquence  hath  breathed 
His  strain  of  loftiest  power ; 

Devotion,  too,  hath  lingered  round 
Each  spot  of  consecrated  ground. 

And  hill  and  valley  blessed ; 

There  where  our  banished  fathers  strayed, 
There  where  they  loved  and  wept  and  prayed. 
There  where  their  ashes  rest. 

And  never  may  they  rest  unsung. 

While  Liberty  can  find  a tongue. 

Twine,  Gratitude,  a wreath  for  them. 

More  deathless  than  the  diadem. 

Who  to  life’s  noblest  end 

Gave  up  life’s  noblest  powers, 

And  bade  the  legacy  descend 
Down,  down  to  us  and  ours.” 


Charles  SpraguEc 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  BOSTON  OF  TO-DAY. 

Such  was  Boston  in  the  past ; such  were  its  founders ; such 
were  the  foundations  that  these  great  and  good  men  laid. 

How  wonderful  in  contrast  is  the  scene  to-day  ! 

In  colonial  times  Boston  embraced  a peninsula  of  six  hun- 
dred and  ninety  acres.  The  peninsula  has  vanished ; 1 700 
acres  were  acquired  by  the  city  when  South  Boston  and  East 
Boston  were  added  to  its  area;  10,100  when  Roxbury  and 
West  Roxbury  were  annexed ; 4800  when  the  gardens  of 
beautiful  Dorchester  were  received.  To-day  the  area  of 
Boston  is  more  than  20,000  acres.  Bridges  span  its  rivers 
on  every  hand.  Its  suburbs  are  among  the  most  lovely  in 
the  world. 

In  1 790  Boston  had  a population  of  something  more  than 
18,000;  in  1800,  of  24,000;  in  1820,  of  43,000;  in  1840,  of 
93,000;  in  1850,  of  136,000;  in  i860,  of  177,000;  and  in 
1870,  after  the  annexation  of  Roxbury  in  1867,  and  of  Dor- 
chester in  1869,  of  250,000.  The  annexation  of  Charlestown, 
West  Roxbury,  and  Brighton  added  greatly  to  the  population, 
and  to-day  (1881)  Boston  contains  about  370,000  souls. 

We  said  the  peninsula  had  vanished.  The  neck  of  it  has 
been  broadened  into  a wide  and  populous  area,  and  where  the 
high  tides  once  washed  the  sands  the  finest  private  residences 
now  stand.  Over  the  old  flats  or  Charles  River  marshes 


324  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

Commonwealth  Avenue  now  stretches  more  than  a mile  in 
length  and  two  hundred  and  forty  feet  wide.  The  old  salt 
meadows  are  grand  squares  ; the  v^ry  hills  have  been  lowered 
to  push  away  the  embouchures  of  the  Charles. 

The  city  has  nearly  thirty  thousand  buildings.  Over  it 
shines  the  gilded  dome  of  the  State  House  on  Beacon  Hill. 
This  building  was  commenced  in  Governor  Hancock’s  pas- 
ture ” in  1789.  From  the  dome,  which  is  open  to  the  pub- 
lic, the  harbor  with  its  fifty  islands,  the  Blue  Hills  of  Milton, 
and  an  immense  extent  of  country  full  of  elegant  houses,  with 
clustering  spires  and  towers,  may  be  seen.  In  the  Doric  Hall, 
or  rotunda,  are  many  historic  relics  and  beautiful  busjts  and 
statues. 

The  valuation  of  Boston  in  1800  was  a little  more  than 
^15,000,000;  in  1870  it  was  nearly  ^600,000,000.  In  1840 
the  average  amount  of  property  to  each  inhabitant  was  less 
than  ^900  ; to-day  it  is  nearly  ^2,500.  Boston  is  one  of  the 
richest  cities  in  the  world. 

It  was  a town  of  churches  at  the  beginning.  It  has  now 
one  hundred  and  fifty  regular  churches  and  some  two  hun- 
dred religious  societies. 

The  Puritans  esteemed  education  next  to  religion,  and 
provided  the  best  schools  for  their  children.  The  schools  in 
Boston  number  nearly  four  hundred ; they  are  the  best 
in  the  country,  and  the  free  public  school  buildings  are 
the  finest  ever  erected.  Harvard  University  is  the  leading 
college  of  America.  The  music  schools  of  Boston  are  the 
best  in  the  country,  and  one  of  them  is  the  largest  in  the 
world. 

In  1852  Joshua  Bates,  whose  bust  may  be  seen  in  Bates 
Hall,  offered  the  city  $50,000  for  the  purchase  of  books,  if 
a suitable  library  were  provided.  The  offer  was  accepted, 
and  thus  began  the  Boston  Public  Library  on  Boylston  Street. 
The  library  now  contains  nearly  four  hundred  thousand  vol- 


STATE  HOUSE 


Qi  !Ht 

UMWtRSin  0^  iumois 


1869. 


Boston  of  To-day. 


Z27 


umes,  and  is,  next  to  the  library  of  Congress,  the  largest  in 
the  country,  and  in  point  of  value  one  of  the  best  in  America. 

When  the  Puritans  came  to  Boston  it  was  because  of  the 
healthful  springs  of  water  on  the  peninsula.  The  fountains 
that  welled  up  from  the  earth  where  is  now  Louisburg  Square, 
with  its  odd  figures  of  Columbus  and  Aristides,  have  dis- 
appeared, long  ago  drawn  away  by  the  over-demand  on  their 
hidden  sources.  The  spring  near  Governor  Winthrop’s  old 
residence,  where  now  is  dark  Spring  Lane  (beyond  the  Old 
South  Church),  around  whose  pump  the  women  used  to 
gossip  in  Anne  Hutchinson’s  time,  is  also  gone.  But  Bos- 
ton is  a place  of  pure  water,  now  as  of  old.  In  1848,  while 
Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  was  mayor,  water  was  successfully  intro- 
duced into  the  city  from  Lake  Cochituate,  twenty  miles  dis- 
tant. The  lake  covers  six  hundred  and  fifty  acres.  It  was 
arranged  that  this  water  should  be  brought  in  a brick  conduit 
eleven  miles  long  to  a grand  reservoir  in  Brookline,  and 
thence  to  distributing  reservoirs  in  Boston,  East  Boston,  South 
Boston,  and  the  Highlands.  The  principal  reservoir  in  Brook- 
line covers  twenty-three  acres.  In  1869  a stand-pipe  was 
erected  in  Roxbury  by  means  of  which  pure  water  is  supplied 
to  the  highest  levels  of  the  city  houses. 

In  1869,  after  the  settlement  of  the  issues  of  the  war,  a 
great  musical  festival,  called  the  Peace  Jubilee,”  was  held 
in  Boston  in  a coliseum,  built  to  accommodate  fifty  thousand 
people.  One  hundred  and  eight  musical  societies  united  in 
forming  a chorus  of  some  ten  thousand  voices,  and  these,  to 
the  accompaniment  of  nearly  one  thousand  instruments,  a 
battery  of  artillery,  and  anvils  and  bells,  sang  the  favorite 
hymns  and  songs  of  America  and  the  great  patriotic  chorals 
of  the  world.  It  was  June  ; the  city  was  filled  with  beautiful 
flowers  ; the  singers  of  all  the  towns  of  New  England  gathered 
here,  and  the  Common  wore  the  appearance  of  a great  fair. 
No  one  who  attended  can  ever  forget  Boston  in  those  serene. 


328  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 

fragrant,  and  bright  June  days.  Another  jubilee,  at  which 
the  singers  numbered  nearly  twenty  thousand  and  the  instru- 
ments nearly  two  thousand,  was  held  in  1872. 

On  the  evening  of  the  9th  of  November,  1872,  a fire  was 
discovered  in  a dry-goods  building  on  the  corner  of  Kings- 


CORNER  OF  WASHINGTON  AND  MILK  STREETS,  BEFORE  THE  GREAT  FIRE. 

ton  and  Summer  Streets.  A cold  wind  was  rising,  and  about 
nine  o’clock  the  people  were  greatly  excited  to  behold  Sum- 
mer Street  a wall  of  flame.  In  the  night  the  wind  blew 
heavily,  the  flames  spread  in  all  directions,  and  the  great 
granite  warehouses  seemed  to  melt  before  them  like  lead.  It 


‘‘summer  street  a wall  of  flame 


1872. 


The  Old  South  standsj 


331 


was  Saturday  night.  The  fire  raged  until  Sunday  noon. 
Sixty-five  acres,  the  centre  of  the  wholesale  trade  of  the  city, 
were  covered  with  blackened  heaps  of  ruin.  Eight  hundred 
buildings  were  destroyed.  The  loss  was  estimated  at  ^8o,- 
000,000. 

The  fire  was  arrested  at  a point  near  the  Old  South  Church. 
This  historic  building  was  saved  by  the  heroic  efforts  of  the 
firemen. 


“THE  OLD  SOUTH  STANDS.” 

Loud,  through  the  still  November  air, 

The  clang  and  clash  of  fire-bells  broke  ; 

From  street  to  street,  from  square  to  square. 
Rolled  sheets  of  flame  and  clouds  of  smoke. 

The  marble  structures  reeled  and  fell. 

The  iron  pillars  bowed  like  lead  ; 

But  one  lone  spire  rang  on  its  bell 

Above  the  flames.  Men  passed,  and  said, 
“ The  Old  South  stands  ! ” 

The  gold  moon,  Against  a copper  sky. 

Hung  like  a portent  in  the  air  ; 

The  midnight  came,  the  wind  rose  high, 

And  men  stood  speechless  in  despair. 

But,  as  the  marble  columns  broke. 

And  wider  grew  the  chasm  red,  — 

A seething  gulf  of  flame  and  smoke,  — 

The  firemen  marked  the  spire  and  said, 

“ The  Old  South  stands  ! ” 

Beyond  the  harbor,  calm  and  fair, 

The  sun  came  up  through  bars  of  gold, 

Then  faded  in  a wannish  glare. 

As  flame  and  smoke  still  upward  rolled. 

The  princely  structures,  crowned  with  art, 
Where  Commerce  laid  her  treasures  bare ; 

The  haunts  of  trade,  the  common  mart, 

All  vanished  in  the  withering  air,  — 

“ The  Old  South  stands  ! ” 


332 


Young  Folks’  History  of  Boston. 


“ The  Old  South  must  be  levelled  soon 
To  check  the  flames  and  save  the  street ; 

Bring  fuse  and  powder.”  But  at  noon 
The  ancient  fane  still  stood  complete. 

The  mitred  flame  had  lipped  the  spire, 

The  smoke  its  blackness  o’er  it  cast ; 

Then,  hero-like,  men  fought  the  fire, 

And  from  each  lip  the  watchword  passed,  — 

‘‘  The  Old  South  stands  ! ” 

All  night  the  red  sea  round  it  rolled. 

And  o’er  it  fell  the  fiery  rain ; 

And,  as  each  hour  the  old  clock  told, 

Men  said,  “ ’T  will  never  strike  again  ! ” 

But  still  the  dial -plate  at  morn 
Was  crimsoned  in  the  rising  light. 

Long  may  it  redden  with  the  dawn, 

And  mark  the  shading  hours  of  night ! 

Long  may  it  stand  ! 

Long  may  it  stand  ! where  God  was  sought 
In  weak  and  dark  and  doubtful  days  ; 

Where  freedom’s  lessons  first  were  taught. 

And  prayers  of  faith  were  turned  to  praise ; 

Where  burned  the  first  Shekinah’s  flame 
In  God’s  new  temples  of  the  free  ; 

Long  may  it  stand,  in  God’s  great  name, 

Like  Israel’s  pillar  by  the  sea  ! 

Long  may  it  stand  ! 

On  the  17th  of  June,  1875,  occurred  the  Centennial  Cele- 
bration of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
imposing  peace  pageants  ever  seen  in  America.  It  also 
happily  proved  the  occasion  of  a formal  exchange  of  expres- 
sions of  good-will  and  renewed  friendship  between  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  North  and  South. 

Boston  is  a lovely  city  in  mid- June,  with  its  old  historic 
streets,  fine  avenues,  and  grand  trees ; but  the  day  of  the 
celebration  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  the  season. 
An  immense  concourse  of  people,  estimated  at  a quarter 


THE  OLD  SOUTH  STANDS. 


The  Boston  of  To-day, 


335 


1875. 

of  a million,  witnessed  the  march  of  the  Centennial  pro- 
cession through  streets  roofed  with  banners  that  gayly  toyed 
and  played  with  the  mellow  sunlight.  The  procession  itself 
was  nearly  ten  miles  long. 

In  the  procession  were  a Baltimore  regiment  and  parts  of 
a Virginia  and  South  Carolina  regiment.  The  splendid  New 
York  Seventh  Regiment,  with  its  glittering  uniforms ; the  Penn- 
sylvania regiments,  with  Governor  Hartranft ; the  Providence 
Light  Infantry,  with  General  Burnside ; General  Sherman, 
Vice-President  Wilson,  and  a large  number  of  men  associated 
with  recent  history,  — all  received  a hearty  recognition. 


HENRY  WILSON. 


The  march  of  the  Southern  regiments  was  a complete  o\  a- 
tion  through  all  the  route. 

The  celebration  was  full  of  incidents  calculated  to  inspire 
harmony  of  feeling  between  the  late  hostile  States.  A pal- 
metto-tree was  planted  at  the  foot  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument, 


336 


Young  Folks  Histo7y  of  Boston. 


and  so  Massachusetts  and  South  Carolina  were  made  by  their 
traditional  emblems  to  stand  side  by  side.  The  great  organ 
was  surrounded  by  palmettos  and  palms,  and  it  pealed  forth 
a fortissimo  welcome  when  the  troops  from  Charleston 
came  filing  into  the  Music  Hall.  Yet  nowhere  have  been 
heard  stronger  or  more  stirring 
words,  presenting  Northern  views 
of  the  late  war,  than  on  that  same 
platform  of  Boston  Music  Hall. 

On  the  Soldiers’  Monument  in 
Charlestown — an  imposing  gran- 
ite structure  which  especially 
honors  Massachusetts  soldiers 
who  fell  in  the  streets  of  Balti- 
more — the  Maryland  regiment 
placed  an  immense  shield  of 
flowers,  bordered  with  trailing 
smilax,  which  was  itself  inwoven 
with  flowers. 

General  Fitz  Hugh  Lee  spoke 
in  Music  Hall  on  the  occasion  of 
the  Governor’s  re- 
ception to  invited 
guests.  When  he 
closed  his  ad- 
dress the  orches- 
tra burst  forth 
with  ‘^Auld  Lang 
Syne.”  The  flag 
of  Eutaw,  which 
had  just  been  un- 
furled in  honor  of 
the  South  Caro- 
lina soldiers,  was  soldiers’  and  sailors’  monument. 


LIBRARY 
or  (HE 

UNIVERSITY  Of  ILLINOIS 


IIBR^JW  ! 

Of  THf 

UNIVERSITY  Of  ILLINOIS  '■ 

I 

^ > 


i 

,'4 


Soldiers'  and  Sailors'  Monnment. 


337 


1877. 


waving  before  the  great  organ,  among  the  palmettos,  and  the 
audience  was  deeply  stirred  by  old  memories  and  new  hopes. 

On  Sept.  17,  1877,  there  was  another  great  military  and 
civic  procession  on  the  occasion  of  the  dedication  of  the 
Soldiers’  and  Sailors’  Monument.  The  entire  military  force 
of  the  State  paraded,  and  was  reviewed  by  President  Hayes. 
From  the  top  of  this  lofty  monument  the  statue  of  America 
overlooks  the  city. 

Our  young  readers  have  nearly  all  seen  this  beautiful  work 
of  art,  but  not  all  who  have  seen  it  may  know  the  meaning 
of  the  four  large  bronze  reliefs. 

The  one  in  front  represents  the  departure  for  the  war.  A 
regiment  is  seen  marching  by  the  State  House  steps.  The 
figures  are  — 


Colonel  Lowell, 

Colonel  Shaw, 

Colonel  Cass,  y Mounted  officers  from  left  to  right. 
General  Butler, 

General  Reed, 

On  the  steps  of  the  State  House  are  — 

Rev.  John  Turner  Sargent,  Governor  Andrew, 

Rev.  A.  H.  Vinton,  Wendell  Phillips, 

Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  H.  W.  Longfellow, 

Archbishop  Williams,  and  others. 

The  second  relief  represents  the  work  of  the  Sanitary  Com- 
mission. The  principal  figures  are  — 


Rev.  E.  E.  Hale, 

E.  R.  Mudge, 

A.  H.  Rice, 

James  Russell  Lowell, 
Rev.  Dr.  Gannett, 
George  Ticknor, 

W.  W.  Clapp, 
Marshall  P.  Wilder, 


^ From  left  to  right. 


22 


338  Young  Folks^  History  of  Boston, 

The  third  relief  gives  a view  of  the  return  from  the  war. 
It  contains  forty  figures.  Among  them  are  — 


General  Bartlett, 
General  Underwood, 
General  Banks, 
General  Devens, 
Senator  Wilson, 


Governor  Claflin, 
Charles  Sumner, 
C.  W.  Slack, 

^ James  Redpath, 
J.  B.  Smith. 


The  fourth  relief  is  a naval  scene. 

The  most  interesting  locality  in  Boston,  after  the  Common, 
is,  perhaps.  Art  Square.  Fronting  it,  or  very  near  it,  are  the 
Art  Museum,  Trinity  Church,  the  new  Old  South  Church, 
Second  Church,  the  Institute  of  Technology,  and  the  Mu- 
seum of  Natural  History.  The  boulevard  of  Commonwealth 
Avenue  is  near,  and  the  boulevard  of  Huntington  Avenue 
stretches  away  from  the  square  for  more  than  a mile. 

Trinity  Church,  a French  Romanesque  structure,  such  as 
might  have  been  seen  in  Aquitaine  in  the  Middle  Ages,  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  buildings  in  America.  It  was  conse- 
crated in  1877,  when  a procession  of  more  than  one  hundred 
clergymen  entered  the  main  portal.  Its  famous  frescos  are 
by  John  La  Farge.  In  the  great  tower  these  frescos  repre- 
sent Moses  and  David,  Peter  and  Paul,  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah. 

The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  is  both  a school  and  an  exhi- 
bition. In  the  entrance  hall  are  works  by  great  sculptors, 
pottery  by  the  mound-builders.  Gobelin  tapestry,  and  an- 
tiques from  the  Alhambra.  The  Greek  rooms  are  rich  in  casts 
and  statues,  including  the  Sumner  Collection.  The  Egyptian 
room  contains  the  Way  Collection  of  Egyptian  antiquities. 
The  picture  galleries  have  works  by  nearly  all  the  great 
masters  of  art  of  recent  times,  and  many  specimens  of  the  old 
masters. 

In  the  hall,  just  over  the  staircase,  are  two  remarkable  pic- 
tures. One  of  these  is  the  Madness  of  King  Lear,  by  Ben- 


i843-  a Story  of  Washington  Allston,  339 

jamin  West ; the  other  is  Belshazzar’s  Feast,  by  Washington 
Allston,  — a work  that  occupied  the  painter’s  attention  for 
forty  years,  and  on  which  he  spent  the  last  days  of  his  life. 


A STORY  OF  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

Allston  was  one  of  the  purest  of  men  from  youth  to  age. 

He  faught  his  pupils  that  character  was  the  first  essential 
to  success  in  any  art. 

We  once  met  a pupil  of  Allston,  now  one  of  the  most  fa- 
mous landscape  painters  in  the  country.  He  related  many 
beautiful  anecdotes  of  the  great  painter,  and  described  his 
sudden  death,  and  the  scene  in  Cambridge  churchyard  when 
the  moon  broke  through  the  summer  clouds  as  the  coffin  was 
opened  for  the  last  time. 

There  is  one  thing  that  Allston  used  to  say  to  me  that  I 
shall  never  forget,”  he  said  with  feeling : it  was  a lesson 
that  every  young  man  should  learn. 

Woung  man,’  he  would  say,  ^be  pure.  No  one  ever  can 
become  a truly  great  artist  without  purity  of  character.  Na- 
ture never  reveals  her  beauties  to  a mind  clouded  with  any 
grossness  of  character.’ 

He  seemed  to  try  to  impress  upon  me  the  fact  that  he 
who  deviated  in  the  least  from  strict  morality  became  some- 
thing less  of  a man  than  he  might  have  been.” 

The  lesson  which  Allston  taught  his  pupils,  and  sublimely 
illustrated  in  his  own  life,  is  one  that  every  young  man  who 
has  an  aspiration  for  success  in  any  aesthetic  calling  should 
leam.  Nature  never  reveals  her  beauties  to  a mind  clouded 
with  any  grossness  of  character.”  Men  of  weak  moral  char- 
acter do  often  make  a reputation  in  literature  and  art,  but 
they  are  always  something  less  than  they  might  have 
been.” 


340  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

Near  West’s  picture  is  Scheffer’s  Eberhard  Mourning  over 
the  Body  of  his  Son. 


EBERHARD. 

The  clarions  rung,  the  bugles  played, 
The  fight  was  hot  and  hard  ; 
Before  the  town  of  Gottingen 
Fast  fell  the  ranks  of  Swabian  men, 
Led  on  by  Eberhard. 


Count  Ulric  was  a valiant  youth, 

The  son  of  Eberhard  ; 

The  bugles  played,  the  clarions  rung, 
His  spearmen  on  the  foe  he  flung. 
And  pressed  the  foemen  hard. 

“ Ulric  is  slain  ! ” the  nobles  cried. 

The  bugles  ceased  to  blow. 

But  soon  the  monarch’s  order  ran, 

“ My  son  is  as  another  man. 

Press  boldly  on  the  foe.” 

And  fiercer  now  the  fight  began. 

And  harder  fell  each  blow  ; 

But  still  the  monarch’s  order  ran, 

‘‘  My  son  is  as  another  man. 

Press  boldly  on  the  foe.” 


O,  many  fell  at  Gottingen, 

Before  the  day  was  done ; 

But  victory  blessed  the  Swabian  men. 
And  the  happy  bugles  played  again 
At  the  setting  of  the  sun. 


We  have  ended  many  of  these  chapters  with  a story.  We 
will  here  close  with  some  account  of 


A Gigantic  Relic, 


341 


1845. 


A GIGANTIC  RELIC. 

The  rarest  collections  of  scientific  relics  are  often  the  most 
unvisited,  and  it  is  a somewhat  singular  fact  that  the  choicest 
and  most  instructive  curiosities  in  many  of  our  larger  cities  are 
not  to  be  found  in  the  popular  museums.  Thousands  of  people 
living  in  the  city  of  Boston,  who  are  familiar  with  the  stuffed 
animals  and  astonishing  wax  figures  in  the  old  Boston  Mu- 
seum, and  are  accustomed  to  air  their  fancy  among  the  re- 
spectable fossils  and  gorgeous  tropical  birds  in  the  Museum  of 
Natural  History,  have  perhaps  never  so  much  as  heard  of  the 
wonder- exciting  collection  of  anatomical  curiosities  known  as 
the  Warren  Museum. 

The  building  stands  in  a quiet,  tenantless  part  of  Chestnut 
Street,  between  Charles  Street  and  the  Charles  River,  but  a 
few  steps  from  Beacon  Street  and  the  Public  Garden.  It  is 
made  of  brick,  with  heavy  iron  doors  and  shutters,  and  of  all 
places  would  be  the  least  likely  to  attract  the  eye  of  the 
stranger,  but  for  the  inscription  over  the  door,  — 

‘‘erected  by 

DR.  JOHN  COLLINS  WARREN.” 

Dr.  John  Collins  Warren  was  the  son  of  Dr.  John  Warren, 
a most  skilful  surgeon  in  the  American  army  during  the 
Revolutionary  War,  and  the  founder  of  the  Medical  School 
in  Harvard  College.  He  was  educated  in  the  best  medical 
schools  of  London  and  Paris,  and  on  the  death  of  his  father, 
in  1815,  was  elected  Professor  of  Anatomy  and  Surgery  at 
Harvard  College,  and  in  1820  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
surgical  department  of  the  Massachusetts  General  Hospital, 
a position  that  he  held  for  thirty-three  years.  During  the 
latter  period  he  made  the  most  extensive  collection  of  ana- 
tomical specimens  to  be  found  in  the  country.  A part  of 


342 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


these  are  still  at  the  Massachusetts  General  Hospital,  a part 
at  the  Boston  Museum  of  Natural  History,  and  a part,  com- 
prising the  rarest  and  most  valuable,  constitute  the  Warren 
Museum. 

The  museum  belongs  to  Dr.  Warren’s  heirs.  For  a con- 
siderable period  after  his  decease  they  used  to  open  it  on 
certain  days  to  the  public,  but  it  ceased  to  excite  curiosity, 
and  it  is  now  only  opened  by  special  permission  on  applica- 
tion to  members  of  the  family.  Every  courtesy  is  extended 
to  those  who  wish  to  visit  the  place  for  scientific  purposes, 
although  no  provision  was  made  in  Dr.  Warren’s  will  for  the 
preservation  of  the  relics  or  care  of  the  building. 

The  Warren  Museum  consists  of  two  fire-proof  rooms,  one 
of  which  contains  gigantic  fossils,  and  the  other,  relics  which 
the  great  anatomist  wished  to  preserve  with  more  than  ordi- 
nary care.  Among  these  are  the  skull,  brain,  and  heart  of 
Spurzheim,  the  phrenologist  and  anatomist,  who  died  in  Bos- 
ton in  1832,  and  whose  monument  graces  one  of  the  princi- 
pal avenues  of  Mount  Auburn. 

Spurzheim  was  a martyr  to  science,  and  those  who  were 
familiar  with  his  self-forgetful  life  and  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
career  could  hardly  view  these  relics  with  unmoistened  eyes. 
The  heart  is  preserved  in  a glass  jar  of  alcohol,  and  the  brain 
in  a glass  box  filled  with  liquid.  The  Prussian  philosopher 
died  only  two  months  after  his  arrival  in  Boston,  during  the 
delivery  of  his  first  course  of  lectures.  He  gave  his  body  to 
science,  to  which  from  boyhood  he  had  devoted  all  the  en- 
ergies of  his  soul. 

The  most  remarkable  object  in  the  Warren  Museum  is  the 
largest  skeleton  of  the  Mastodon  giganteus  ever  discovered 
on  the  continent.  By  its  side,  in  way  of  contrast,  is  the  frame 
of  the  elephant  Pizarro,  the  largest  ever  brought  to  this  coun- 
try. The  skeleton  of  the  Mastodon  gigaiiteus  will  not  fail  to 
cause  the  visitor  to  start  back  in  awe,  and  he  will  be  hardly 


343 


i845-  a Gigantic  Relic. 

able  to  suppress  that  adjective  of  fools,  Impossible  ! ” It  is 
twelve  feet  high,  and  thirty-four  feet  in  length,  from  the  tips 
of  the  tusks  to  the  extremity  of  its  tail.  Its  trunk  is  seventeen 


SKELETON  OF  MAMMOTH. 


feet  in  length.  The  animal  must  have  weighed  more  than 
20,000  pounds  ! 

Dr.  Warren,  in  his  magnificent  and  very  costly  work  on  the 
Mastodon  giganteus,  copies  of  which  are  only  to  be  found  in 
the  rarest  libraries,  has  given  us  an  account  of  all  that  is 
known  of  this  animal,  and  a very  interesting  description  of 
the  finding  of  this  particular  specimen,  of  which  we  make  an 
abridgment : — 

At  a very  early  period  after  the  settlement  of  this  country, 
relics  of  the  mastodon  were  found  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Hud- 
son River.  Among  these  were  a tooth,  which  is  described 
by  Dr.  Cotton  Mather  of  Boston  as  weighing  more  than  four 
pounds,  and  a thigh-bone,  said  to  have  been  more  than  sev- 
enteen feet  long. 

As  the  country  became  settled,  mastodon  bones,  in  greater 
or  less  numbers,  were  found  scattered  over  a large  part  of  the 
territory  of  the  United  States,  but  chiefly  near  the  Hudson, 


344  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

in  the  salt-licks  of  Kentucky,  in  the  Carolinas,  in  Mississippi, 
and  Arkansas.  They  have  recently  been  found  in  California 
and  Oregon. 

The  Hudson  River  country,  between  New  York  and  Al- 
bany, seems  to  have  been  a favorite  resort  of  the  mastodon 
race.  The  lands  here  were  fertile,  undulating,  and  well 
wooded,  and  the  valleys  contained  lacustrine  deposits  favora- 
ble to  the  growth  of  such  trees  and  shrubs  as  would  be  likely 
to  afford  this  animal  subsistence. 

In  the  year  1845  there  was  found,  at  Newburgh,  on  the 
Hudson,  the  largest  perfect  skeleton  of  a mastodon  which 
has  yet  been  exhumed  on  this  continent.  The  summer  had 
been  exceedingly  hot  and  dry.  Many  small  lacustrine  de- 
posits had  been  exposed  by  the  drought,  and  the  farmers  had 
industriously  seized  upon  the  opportunity  to  remove  these 
rich  beds  of  fertility  to  their  tillage-lands  and  fields. 

The  drought  at  last  laid  bare  one  of  these  deposits  in  a 
bog  on  the  farm  of  Mr.  N.  Brewster,  a spot  that  had  never 
been  known  to  become  dry  before.  Mr.  Brewster  at  once 
summoned  his  men  to  remove  the  deposit,  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible, to  his  fields  and  farm-yards.  One  day,  toward  evening, 
in  the  latter  part  of  summer,  these  laborers  struck  a hard 
substance.  Some  said  it  was  a ^^rock;”  others,  a ^Hog;” 
others,  jestingly,  a mammoth.” 

Early  the  next  morning  Mr.  Brewster  went  with  his  labor- 
ers to  the  field,  and  found  the  supposed  rock  or  log  to  be  an 
immense  bone.  The  men  began  digging,  full  of  eager  curi- 
osity, and  exposed  to  view  the  massive  skull  and  long  white 
tusks  of  a mastodon.  These  tusks  were  of  such  immense 
size  and  length  as  to  cause  the  most  wonderful  reports  to  go 
flying  about  the  neighborhood,  and  to  draw  the  good  people 
of  Newburgh  in  crowds  to  the  place.  It  was  soon  discovered 
that  the  perfect  skeleton  of  a mastodon  was  imbedded  in 
the  peat.  Sheer-poles  and  tackles  were  obtained,  and,  amid 


A Gigantic  Relic, 


345 


1845. 

excitement,  cheering,  and  many  cautions,  the  bones  of  the 
monster  were  raised  from  the  bed  where  they  had  lain  no 
one  can  tell  how  many  thousand  years. 

Two  days  were  occupied  in  these  interesting  labors.  The 
relics  drew  to  them  an  immense  number  of  people  from  the 
surrounding  country.  Beneath  the  pelvic  bones  of  this  mas- 
todon were  found  five  or  six  bushels  of  broken  twigs,  which 
evidently  had  constituted  the  animal’s  last  meal.  He  had 
undoubtedly  been  mired  while  attempting  to  cross  this  bog, 
and  in  this  manner  perished.  These  twigs  were  from  one- 
quarter  to  three-eighths  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  a little 
more  than  an  inch  in  length.  They  were  supposed  to  belong 
to  willow,  linden,  and  maple  trees. 

It  is  vain  to  conjecture  how  many  years  ago  this  crea- 
ture may  have  lived.  What  marvellous  scenes  must  have 
passed  before  its  eyes  in  its  wanderings,  what  gigantic 
forests,  what  noble  watercourses,  what  luxuriant  vegetation  ! 
What  strange  animals  may  have  been  its  companions,  — 
species  that  passed  away  long  before  civilization  brought  its 
destructive  weapons  to  the  Western  shores  ! 


“ O COUNTRY  fair ! how  have  thy  green  hills  altered 
Since  those  dim,  distant  days 
When,  lost  in  beauty,  olden  voyagers  faltered 
On  bright  New  England  bays ; 

“ Since  on  thy  tides  the  weary.  Northmen  drifted, 
Safe  havened  from  the  seas. 

And  knighted  sea-kings  in  thy  calm  capes  lifted 
Their  banners  to  the  breeze ; 

“ Since  knelt  the  Pilgrim,  by  dark  foes  surrounded. 
In  forests  newly  trod. 

And  in  each  place  a templed  city  founded. 

Where  he  bent  down  to  God. 


“ ’T  is  ours  to  tell  no  mythic  hero’s  glory. 

Nor  twine  the  victor’s  bays ; 

’T  is  ours  to  tell  of  praying  men  the  story, 

And  follow  prayer  with  praise. 

‘ ’T  is  ours  to  mark  upon  a lengthened  dial 
The  finger  of  our  God, 

As  we  recount  the  paths  of  self-denial 
Through  which  our  fathers  trod. 

“ The  rural  homes  among  the  oaks’  broad  shadows 
Upon  the  river’s  arms  ; 

The  fragrant  orchards  and  the  waving  meadows, 
Of  harvest-happy  farms ; 

‘ The  clustering  steeples  by  the  busy  river. 

The  towns  on  harbors  fair. 

Are  but  God’s  answers  to  their  brave  endeavor 
And  self-forgetful  prayer. 


“ They  prayed  alone  to  know  the  path  of  duty, 
And  duty’s  hardships  bear  ; 

And  God  for  them  has  diademed  with  beauty 
Thy  hills,  O country  fair ! ” 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  PLEASURE  RESORTS  AND  THE  BEAUTIFUL 
SUBURBS  OF  BOSTON. 

People  who  have  travelled  extensively  pronounce  the 
suburbs  of  Boston  among  the  most  lovely  of  the  cities  of  the 
world.  It  is  a quiet  loveliness  of  hill,  glen,  and  river ; fine 
public  buildings  and  homes  of  taste.  From  all  the  hills, 
ocean  views  with  white  sails  and  green  islands  appear.  The 
roads  are  wide  and  shaded.  Broad  lawns,  flower-gardens, 
arbors,  and  decorations  in  marble  and  bronze  are  to  be  seen 
continuously  for  miles.  The  neighboring  towns  are  as  de- 
lightful. Few  English  landscapes  are  more  beautiful  than 
those  at  the  Newtons,  at  Arlington,  and  Brookline.  An 
excursion  on  the  Charles  River  from  Waltham  in  the  little 
summer  steamer  takes  one  through  a region  of  rural  beauty 
that  seems  formed  for  a fairy  land.  Few  schools  in  the 
world  have  a more  pleasing  situation  than  Wellesley  College, 
with  its  extensive  grounds,  dotted  with  noble  trees,  its  lake, 
its  groves,  its  views  of  the  winding  Charles.  The  estates  in 
Wellesley  known  as  Hunnewell’s  Gardens  and  Ridge  Hill 
Farms  are  among  the  most  beautiful  specimens  of  floral  deco- 
ration and  landscape  gardening  in  the  country. 

The  Blue  Hills  at  Milton,  Corey  Hill  in  Brookline,  Arling- 
ton Heights,  Winter  Hill,  Somerville,  and  the  hills  of  Malden, 
all  present  charming  landscapes  to  the  eye  of  the  excursion- 
ist. He  has  not  seen  the  beauties  of  Boston  who  has  not 


350 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


visited  the  suburbs  and  the  neighboring  towns,  in  which  a 
large  proportion  of  those  who  do  business  in  the  city  live  and 
spend  their  wealth  on  homes  of  comfort  and  taste. 

Many  of  the  lovely  places  near  Boston  can  be  reached  by 
the  horse-cars.  A ten-cent  ride  in  the  open  cars  will  afford 
almost  as  much  pleasure  as  a ride  in  one’s  own  carriage. 
Among  the  many  places  that  may  thus  be  visited  are 

Dorchester^  affording  a view  of  the  harbor  and  of  Milton 
Hills. 

Grove  Hall^  passing  the  residence  of  General  Warren,  and 
stopping  near  Dr.  Cullis’s  well-known  charitable  institution, 
the  Consumptives’  Home. 

Milton  Lower  Mills,  a distance  of  six  miles,  with  views  of 
South  Boston,  the  Harbor,  the  villas  of  Savin  Hill,  and  Ne- 
ponset  River.  A short  walk  from  the  Mills  will  take  one  to 
the  highlands  of  Milton,  whence  very  picturesque  and  ex- 
tended scenes  appear ; another  walk  over  a road  lined  with 
villas  will  bring  one  to  Webster  Garden,  near  which  the 
Dorchester  horse-cars  may  be  taken  for  a return  trip  to  Bos- 
ton. This  excursion,  with  its  walks,  would  take  some  three  or 
four  hours.  This  is  a very  charming  afternoon  trip  in  June 
or  September. 

Forest  Hills  is  a beautiful  part  of  the  suburbs.  The  dis- 
tance by  horse-cars  is  about  five  miles,  into  an  open  country 
full  of  rich  landscapes,  airy  villas,  and  broad,  beautiful  lawns. 

fa^naica  Plain  opens  another  horse-car  ride  through  ave- 
nues of  great  beauty.  The  car  track  is  about  five  miles  in 
length.  At  the  end  of  it,  near  the  Soldiers’  Monument,  a 
carriage  in  summer  will  be  found  waiting  to  take  excursion- 
ists to  Allandale  Mineral  Spring,  over  a road  of  continu- 
ous villas,  and  in  view  of  noble  country-seats  and  quaint 
Queen  Anne  houses.  The  woods  around  Allandale  Spring 
are  full  of  walks,  and  a summer  afternoon  may  be  spent  there 
as  quietly  as  in  a forest. 


STATUE  OF  EDWARD  EVERETT. 


i88i.  The  Pleasure  Resorts  of  Boston.  353 

A visit  to  Mount  Auburn^  passing  the  colleges  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  the  residences  of  Longfellow  and  James  Russell 
Lowell,  may  be  made  by  the  horse-cars.  In  this  one  gets 
fine  views  of  the  Charles.  It  is  well  to  take  a whole  day  for 
this  excursion,  and  to  stop  in  Cambridge  and  visit  the  Agassiz 
Museum  and  Harvard  Memorial  Hall.  The  excursion  may 
be  made,  however,  on  a summer  or  early  autumn  afternoon. 
Arlington  is  reached  by  horse-cars  which  pass  through  Cam- 
bridge, and  the  horse-car  route  is  one  of  the  longest  out  of 
Boston.  Before  making  excursions  in  this  direction  it  would 
be  well  for  the  tourist  to  read  Drake’s  Historic  Fields  and 
Mansions  of  Middlesex.” 

A horse-car  excursion  to  Lynn  through  Charlestown  affords 
a view  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  and  of  the  Chelsea  and 
Revere  Beaches.  A pleasant  short  excursion  may  be  made 
by  crossing  to  Chelsea  on  the  ferry-boat  and  returning  by  the 
horse-cars  to  the  city. 

Among  the  places  of  especial  interest  only  a few  miles 
from  Boston,  but  a little  beyond  the  horse-car  tracks,  we  may 


mention  : — 

Middlesex  Fells Medford. 

Old  Powder  House Somerville. 

Merry  Mount  ” Wollaston. 

Cradock  House Medford. 

Waverly  Oaks Belmont. 

Royall  House Medford. 

Ten  Hills Somerville. 

Adams  Homestead Quincy. 


These  and  many  other  places  are  interesting  alike  to  the 
Bostonian  and  the  traveller  spending  a few  weeks  in  Boston. 
Many  Boston  people  who  have  visited  Europe  are  not  well 
acquainted  with  the  historic  places  of  their  own  State. 
Others,  as  was  the  case  with  Charles  Sumner,  have  taken  new 


354  Young  Folks  History^ of  Boston: 

views  of  the  beauties  of  Boston,  after  a residence  abroad. 

In  all  England,”  said  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  there  is  no  city 
which  has  suburbs  so  gray  and  venerable  as  the  elm-shaded 
towns  around  Boston,  — ; Dorchester,  Chelsea,  Nahant,  and 
Salem.”  It  is  a good  thing  for  a Bostonian  to  go  abroad,” 
said  a traveller,  ‘Ct  gives  him  such  a satisfaction  with  his 
own  city  on  his  return.” 

As  beautiful  as  are  the  suburbs  and  the  inland  towns  near 
Boston,  are  the  shores  and  green  islands  of  the  harbor  and 
bay.  Boston  Bay  has  been  compared  to  the  Bay  of  Dublin 
and  even  to  the  Bay  of  Naples.  The  latter  comparison  is  of 
course  overdrawn  ; the  bay  has  no  Vesuvius,  is  canopied  by 
no  entrancing  colors  of  sky,  and  terminated  by  no  city  of  a 
history  of  thousands  of  years.  But  it  is  full  of  beauty,  and 
the  summer  sunsets  viewed  from  it  are  often  magnificent,  — 
crimson,  violet,  and  pearl,  with  darkening  clouds  near  the 
horizon  that  resemble  mountain  peaks,  and  complete  an  en- 
chanting scene. 

A fleet  of  steamers  and  excursion  boats  in  summer  gives 
the  sheltered  waters  an  animated  appearance.  Some  of  these 
go  as  far  as  Cape  Ann,  the  Isle  of  Shoals,  and  the  coast  of 
Maine,  but  most  of  them  to  the  Nantasket  or  Lynn  Beaches. 
They  all  pass  in  sight  of  the  terraced  heights  of  Governor’s 
Island  and  Fort  Independence.  Governor’s  Island  was  once 
known  as  Governor’s  Garden,  it  having  been  granted  to 
Governor  Winthrop  for  a garden,  on  the  condition  of  his 
paying  two  bushels  of  apples  a year  to  the  colonial  treasury. 

Fort  Independence  is  built  upon  Castle  Island,  so  called  be- 
cause here  was  Castle  William  in  colonial  times.  This  island 
was  fortified  in  1633-34,  and  is  the  oldest  military  post  in  the 
eastern  part  of  the  country.  It  took  the  name  of  Castle  William 
on  the  accession  of  William  III.,  at  which  tirne  it^was  repaired 
by  Colonel  Romer,  and  mounted  with  100  guns.  The  castle 
was  demolished  by  the  British  on  the  evacuation  of  Boston. 


i88i. 


The  Pleastire  Resorts  of  Boston, 


355 


A new  fortress  was  built  and  named  Fort  Independence  by 
President  John  Adams. 

Among  the  beautiful  and  interesting  places  on  the  bay 
and  Atlantic  coast  to  which  excursions  may  be  made  by 
steamers  or  railroads,  or  both,  we  may  name  — 

Point  Shirley Narrow  Gauge  R.  R. 

Deer  Island  . . . Government  Boat,  by  permission. 

Revere  Beach Boat,  steam  or  horse  cars. 

Nahant  . Boat,  or  by  rail  to  Lynn  and  barge  to  Nahant. 

Nahant  is  famous  for  its  spouting  rock  and  fine  villas.  It 
has  been  the  summer  resort  of  many  eminent  people,  among 
them  Longfellow,  Motley,  Agassiz,  and  Prescott. 


Swampscott, 


Marblehead,  J.  Railroad. 
Newburyport,  j 


Marblehead  is  one  of  the  most  quaint  of  American  towns. 
It  is  full  of  old  houses.  It  was  the  birthplace  of  Elbridge  Gerry, 
Joseph  Story,  and  Commodore  Tucker.  General  Glover, 
whose  statue  may  be  seen  in  Commonwealth  Avenue,  lived 
here.  Marblehead  Neck  is  famous  for  its  sea  views,  and  its 
coolness  in  summer.  The  tomb  of  Whitefield  is  shown  at 
Newburyport,  in  the  Whitefield  Church. 

Salem Railroad. 

The  Marine  Museum,  the  House  of  Seven  Gables,  Gallows 
Hill,  and  the  court-house  relics,  such  as  the  witch  pins,” 
are  here  usually  sought  for  by  the  historic  tourist,  and  the 
associations  of  Hawthorne’s  books  by  the  friends  of  the 
novelist. 


356 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 


Beverly  Farms  are  famous  in  history.  Beverly  is  the  home 
of  Lucy  Larcom,  and  Manchester  was  the  summer  residence 
of  the  late  James  T.  Fields. 

Gloucester,  J 

Magnolia,  [ Boat. 

Pigeon  Cove,  j 

Railroad. 

^ . >-  Excursion  Boat. 

Provmcetown,  ) 

Chelsea  Beach  and  Nantasket  Beach  are  the  principal 
resorts  of  those  who  have  but  a few  hours  at  a time  to  devote 
to  excursions.  Downer  Landing  is  also  a favorite  place. 

Nantasket  Beach  is  connected  with  Cohasset  by  the  famous 
Jerusalem  road.  Nantasket  is  supposed  to  have  been  the 
first  land  on  the  bay  ever  visited  by  white  men.  If  the 
antiquaries  are  right,  this  event  took  place  hundreds  of  years 
before  Columbus  was  born. 

We  had  planned  to  end  most  of  the  chapters  of  this  vol- 
ume with  a story.  Let  us  here  tell  you  the  story  of 

Leif. 

Not  long  since,  we  heard  a fairly  well  educated  gentleman 
ask,  Who  was  Leif,  of  whom  a statue  is  to  be  erected  in 
Boston?'^  ^ 

If  most  of  my  readers  are  similarly  ignorant,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising, neither  is  it  to  their  discredit.  For  those  works 
especially  treating  of  the  race  to  which  Leif  belonged  are 
inaccessible  to  the  masses.  The  best  cyclopaedias  consider  the 

1 We  are  largely  indebted  to  F.  F.  Foster,  Weare,  New  Hampshire,  for 
most  of  this  narrative. 


Scituate,  I 
Marshfield,  j 
Plymouth, 


THE  FRENCH  KING  TROUBLED  AT  THE  APPROACH  OF  THE  NORTHMEN, 


844- 


Leif. 


359 


subject  — as  they  must,  perforce,  all  subjects — very  briefly; 
and  of  many  histories  by  us  carefully  examined,  no  one 
devotes  more  than  two  pages  thereto,  which  is  insufficient 
to  convey  any  adequate  information  concerning  that  with 
which,  in  our  opinion,  every  American  scholar  should  be 
somewhat  familiar. 

Before  reading  further  in  this  chapter,  find  the  map  of 
North  America,  and  keep  it  before  the  eye.  You  will  thus 
be  able  to  follow  the  course  of  the  ships  of  Leif  and  Thorvald 
of  which  we  are  about  to  speak,  and  your  eye  will  travel  over 
all  the  wild  coast  from  Greenland  to  Boston  Harbor. 

The  Northmen  — by  this  term  are  to  be  understood  the 
inhabitants  of  ancient  Norway  and  Sweden  — were  at  one 
time  navigators  of  wide  reputation  throughout  the  world, 
though  their  expeditions  were,  for  the  greater  part,  of  a 
piratical  nature.  Scarcely  was  there  a known  coast  which 
their  squadrons  did  not  touch ; and,  by  their  bravery  and 
activity,  these  bold  seamen  gained  and  maintained  the  mas- 
tery over  other  nations. 

They  established  one  of  their  princes,  Canute,  on  the 
British  throne,  despite  the  mighty  resistance  of  their  adver- 
saries. About  the  same  time  they  subjected  to  their  power 
one  of  the  fairest  sections  of  France,  to  which  they  gave  the 
name  Normandy.  Moreover,  for  a season,  they  ruled  the 
Mediterranean  regions,  and  held  the  supremacy  in  Constanti- 
nople and  Jerusalem ; everywhere  exhibiting  an  unsurpassed 
energy  and  courage. 

To  both  victors  and  vanquished  these  conquests  were 
beneficial.  The  Southrons  became  more  hardy,  seeking  to 
secure  to  themselves  the  physical  vigor  of  their  conquerors, 
which  they  could  not  but  admire,  so  great  was  the  contrast 
between  it  and  their  own  weakness ; the  roughness  of  the 
northern  invaders  was  toned  down  by  association  with  the 
refinement  of  southern  civilization. 


360  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

In  tb^  year  875  Ingolf  and  Leif  established  in  Iceland  a 
colony  of  Northmen  who  were  unwilling  longer  to  submit  to 
the  tyranny  of  their  king,  Harold  ; and  in  986,  under  the 
leadership  of  Eric,  surnamed  the  Red,  a colony  of  the  same 
people  settled  in  Greenland.  Eric  fixed'  his  residence  at  a 
place  to  which  he  gave  the  name  Brattalid ; the  inlet,  at  the 
head  of  which  he  settled,  he  called  Eric’s  fjord  or  ford.  He 
named  the  country  Green-land. 

Bjarne,  son  of  Heriulf,  — one  of  those  who  accompanied 
Eric  to  Greenland,  and  who  gave  his  name  to  its  southern- 
most cape,  known  to  us  as  Farewell,”  — was  interested  in 
maritime  commerce,  which  he  carried  on  with  success. 

One  summer,  on  returning  from  a foreign  voyage  to  his 
Norwegian  home,  he  learned  that  his  father  had  gone  to 
Greenland,  and  immediately  resolved  to  follow  him  to  the 
new  country,  though  entirely  ignorant  as  to  the  necessary 
course,  nautically  speaking. 

Finding  his  crew  favorable  to  the  project,  he  set  sail  for 
the  land  to  which  Heriulf  had  emigrated.  For  nearly  two 
weeks,  owing  to  a dense  fog,  he  drifted  at  random  ; but  when 
the  fog  lifted  he  discovered  land.  As  it  was  low,  sandy,  and 
covered  with  wood,  — quite  unlike  what  they  supposed 
Greenland  was,  — they  passed  it  and  continued  towards  the 
north. 

The  next  day  he  again  ^‘made  land.”  The  physical  char- 
acteristics of  the  coast  were  the  same  as  those  of  the  land 
previously  seen ; so  they  left  it  and  put  out  to  sea. 

A few  days  later  he  for  the  third  time  discovered  land, 
which,  on  exploration,  proved  to  be  an  island.  Leaving  it, 
and  sailing  in  a northerly  direction,  within  three  days  they 
reached  Heriulf  s residence.  Cape  Farewell. 

In  the  year  1000  Leif,  his  curiosity  aroused  by  what  he 
had  heard  of  Bjarne ’s  discoveries,  determined  to  visit  the 
unexplored  regions ; and,  having  purchased  and  equipped 


1000. 


Leif. 


361 


Bjarne’s  ship,  he  set  sail  towards  the  south.  The  first  land 
he  reached  was  that  last  left  by  Bjarne,  which  Leif  found  a 
barren  coast,  gradually  rising  into  mountains.  On  account 
of  its  extreme  rockiness,  he  called  the  country  Hella-land ; 
hella^  in  the  Icelandic  vernacular,  signifying  a broad  rock.” 

This  land  Danish  antiquaries  regard  as  identical  with 
Labrador.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  it  was  insular,  we  incline 
to  believe  Hella-land  the  modern  Newfoundland. 

Resuming  his  voyage,  Leif  a second  time  made  land, 
like  in  appearance  to  that  first  land  that  greeted  Bjarne’s  eyes  ; 
according  to  the  aforementioned  antiquaries.  Nova  Scotia. 

Putting  to  sea,  in  two  days  he  for  the  third  time  saw  land. 
Near  the  coast  and  to  the  south  of  it  was  an  island  which  he 
visited.  Sailing  westward  from  the  island,  through  a strait 
separating  it  from  the  mainland,  he  ere  long  reached  a local- 
ity where  a river  flowed  into  the  sea. 

This  Leif  deemed  a suitable  place  for  the  establishment  of 
a colony,  and  hither  he  brought  the  ship’s  stores.  At  first 
only  rude  huts  were  built ; but  when  it  had  been  decided  to 
make  the  place  a permanent  residence,  houses  of  a respect- 
able size  were  erected,  and  the  settlement  was  called  Leifs 
Booths, 

Among  Leifs  followers  was  a German  who  for  many  years 
had  been  a member  of  Eric’s  household.  Possessing  an 
investigating  disposition,  he  was  almost  always  sent  with  those 
detailed  to  explore  the  interior  of  the  country.  On  one 
occasion  he  did  not  return  with  the  rest  of  his  party,  and 
Leif,  anxious  in  regard  to  his  safety,  took  a squad  of  men  and 
set  out  in  quest  of  him.  He  was  soon  found. 

Leif  said  to  him,  — 

Why  art  thou  so  late,  my  foster  father  ? Why  didst  thou 
leave  thy  comrades?” 

I did  not  go  much  further  than  they,  but  I found  some- 
thing new,  — vines  and  grapes.” 


362  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

Is  that  true? 

Yes,  I was  born  in  the  land  of  grapes.” 

We  will  gather  grapes,”  said  Leif. 

The  Northmen  had  never  before  heard  of  this  fruit,  but 
the  German  was  thoroughly  conversant  with  its  properties 
and  uses,  and  speedily  acquainted  his  companions  with  it. 

They  filled  the  stern  of  one  of  their  boats  with  clusters  of 
gi*apes,  and  bore  them  away  with  them  towards  their  own 
barren  coast. 

Leif  named  it  Wineland  because  of  the  abundance  of  the 
grapes  in  this  region.  For  various  reasons,  which  it  is  not 
necessary  to  state,  Wineland  is  supposed  to  be  the  present 
Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island.  On  this  supposition,  the 
island  on  which  Leif  landed  is  Nantucket ; the  mainland, 
north  from  it.  Cape  Cod.  The  Booths^  probably,  were  near 
the  site  of  the  Bristol  of  to-day.  After  passing  a few  months 
in  Wineland,  Leif  sailed  for  Greenland,  which  he  reached  in 
safety.  From  the  success  of  his  voyage  he  was  thenceforth 
known  as  Leif,  the  Lucky, 

So  great  an  interest  was  aroused  among  the  Greenlanders 
by  Leifs  discoveries  that,  in  the  autumn  of  1001,  his  brother 
Thorvald  set  out  upon  an  expedition  to  these  newly  found 
regions.  He  made  the  Booths  his  winter  quarters.  f 

In  the  spring  of  1002  he  sailed  towards  the  east  and  was 
wrecked  upon  a cape  to  which,  from  its  resemblance  to  the 
keel  of  a ship,  he  gave  the  name  Kialarness  — Keel  Cape  ; 
the  Cape  Cod  of  to-day. 

Having  repaired  his  ship,  he  took  a westerly  course,  and 
soon  reached  a most  beautiful  promontory.  So  attractive  in 
its  appearance  was  it,  he  determined  to  make  it  the  place  of 
his  permanent  abode. 

Here  the  Scandinavians  came  upon  three  canoes,  each 
containing  three  persons  whom  they  designated  Skraellingar 
— Esquimaux.  There  was  an  encounter  between  the  two 


UBf?<‘Ry 
Of  fHf 

umvtHsiiy  of  Illinois 


1002. 


Leif, 


365 


parties,  which  resulted  in  the  death  of  eight  of  the  natives 
and  the  flight  of  the  ninth.  The  fugitive  shortly  returned  with 
new  forces  and  resumed  the  combat,  which  quickly  termi- 
nated in  the  discomfiture  of  the  aggressors. 

Thorvald,  however,  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  engage- 
ment ; and,  calling  his  followers  around  him,  he  advised  their 
immediate  return  to  Greenland. 

‘‘  But,”  said  he,  first  bury  me  on  the  beautiful  promontory. 
Put  a cross  at  my  head  and  another  at  my  feet,  and  let  the 
name  of  the  place  be  Krossanes  ” — Cape  Cross.  This  is, 
supposably,  some  point  near  Plymouth,  or  at  the  extremity  of 
Nantasket  Beach. 

A beautiful  story  is  told  about  the  gentle  conduct  of  Thor- 
vald in  meeting  his  enemies,  a story  worthy  of  the  pen  of  a 
poet. 

He  saw  the  boats  of  the  savages  approaching  and  noted 
the  warlike  attitude  of  the  natives. 

‘‘  Put  up  the  war  screens,”  he  said,  and  defend  yourselves 
as  well  as  you  can,  but  do  not  let  us  use  our  weapons  against 
them.” 

When  the  battle  was  over  he  said,  — 

Is  any  one  wounded?  ” 

No,”  was  the  answer. 

If  said  the  gentle  navigator,  have  received  a wound. 
It  is  under  my  arm.  It  will  be  my  death  wound.” 

What  a truly  heroic  soul  Thorvald  must  have  had  1 He 
deserves  a monument  as  much  as  Leif. 


^‘Society  needs  the  well-trained,  enlarged,  and  cultivated  intellect  of  the 
scholar,  in  its  midst ; needs  it,  and  welcomes  it,  and  gives  it  a place,  or,  by  its 
own  capacity,  it  will  take  a place  of  honor,  influence,  and  power.  The  youthful 
scholar  has  no  occasion  to  deplore  the  fate  that  is  soon  to  tear  him  from  his 
studies,  and  cast  him  into  the  swelling  tide  of  life  and  action.  None  of  his 
disciplinary  and  enriching  culture  will  be  lost,  or  useless,  even  there.  Every 
hour  of  study,  every  truth  he  has  reached,  and  the  toilsome  process  by  which  he 
reached  it ; the  heightened  grace  or  vigor  of  thought  or  speech  he  has  acquired, 
— all  shall  tell  fully,  nobly,  if  he  will  give  heed  to  the  conditions.  And  one 
condition,  the  prime  one,  is,  that  he  be  a true  man,  and  recognize  the  obligation 
of  a man,  and  go  forth  with  heart,  and  will,  and  every  gift  and  acquirement  dedi- 
cated lovingly  and  resolutely  to  the  true  and  the  right.  These  are  the  terms ; 
and  apar^  from  these  there  is  no  success,  no  influence  to  be  had,  which  an  in- 
genuous mind  can  desire,  or  which  a sound  and  far-seeing  mind  would  dare  to 
seek.” 


George  Putnam. 


I 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  OLD  BOSTON  SCHOOLS. 

We  recently  called  upon  that  hale  but  venerable  Bos- 
tonian, General  H.  K.  Oliver,  well  known  as  an  educator, 
an  honored  State  officer  during  the  late  war,  and  the  writer 
of  Federal  St.’’  and  other  musical  compositions,  for  the 
purpose  of  asking  information  concerning  the  old  Boston 
schools.  The  General  for  an  hour  or  more  related  to  us 
amusing  anecdotes  of  his  old  school-days,  and  gave  us  one 
of  his  published  addresses,  entitled  How  I was  Educated,” 
which  presents  a clear  view  of  a schoolboy’s  life  in  Boston 
nearly  seventy  years  ago. 

short  distance  above  Milk  Street  and  a less  distance 
above  the  old  Province  House,  on  Marlborough  Street,  now 
called  Washington,”  says  General  Oliver  in  this  address,  stood 
my  father’s  house,  to  and  from  the  barn  of  which  I daily 
drove  my  father’s  cow  from  Boston  Common  tlirough  Brom- 
field’s  Lane. 

^Hn  1805  I was  placed  under  the  educational  influence 
of  one  Mr.  Hayslop,  who  kept  school  on  the  corner  of 
Franklin  and  Washington  Streets.  Well  do  I recall  the 
look  of  the  building,  the  old  time-stained  walls  of  wood,  its 
old  door,  its  old  stairway,  up  which  our  little  feet  bore  us  to 
the  old  school-room,  on  the  second  floor,  where  ruled  and 
feruled  the  good  old  master.” 

General  Oliver  describes  the  pedagogue’s  dress  as  unique 
in  the  extreme,  from  foot  to  head,  ‘^with  its  square-toed 

24 


370 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


shoes  and  ponderous  buckles,  gray  stockings,  tabby-velvet 
breeches,  and  knee-buckles,  vest  of  exaggerated  length,  ruffled 
shirt,  seedy  coat,  with  pockets  vast  and  deep,  ironed  stock, 
and  powdered  wig.”  The  General,  speaking  of  his  primary 
training,  says  it  took  him  six  weeks  to  learn  the  alphabet, 
though  he  found  out  correctly  the  names  of  all  the  scholars 
and  his  master’s  family  in  less  than  a week,  — a good  testi- 
mony certainly  to  the  happy  influence  of  object  teaching. 


We  should  judge 
from  the  following 
anecdote  that  boys 
then  as  now  sought 
to  improve  all  their 
opportunities. 


I well  recall,” 
says  General  Oliver, 
one  instance  of 
severity  at  my  first 
teacher’s  hands ; 
like  many  other 
calamities  it  proved 
a blessing  in  dis- 
guise. For  some 
roguery  of  mine. 


THE  OLD  PEDAGOGUE. 


the  good  man  shut  me  up  in  a closet  ‘ black  as  Erebus  and 
deepest  night : ’ — 

“‘No  sun,  no  moon;  all  dark,  amid  the  blaze  of  noon.* 

Quivering  with  fright,  I tried  to  penetrate  the  murky  gloom. 
Blessed  with  keen  nasal  powers,  I thought,  as  I became  more 
calm,  that  I smelt  some  odorous  savors  sweet,  and  I soon 
found,  greatly  to  my  relief  and  comfort,  that  I was  incarcer- 
ated in  a store- closet  wherein  were  boxes  of  sugar  and  tooth- 
some things  in  general.  I turned  my  attention  to  these  sources 


The  Old  Boston  Schools. 


371 


of  relief.  When  the  door  was  opened,  I made  a straight  line 
for  home,  considerably  worse  for  gorging,  and  forgiving 
Master  Hayslop  in  my  heart. 

From  this  school,’^  says  the  General,  I was  removed  to 
Madam  Tileston’s  in  Hanover  Street.  I was  a restless  lad, 
and  Madam  Tileston’s  customary  punishment  was  sundry 
smart  taps  on  my  head,  with  the  middle  finger  of  her  right 
hand,  which  was  armed  with  a rough  steel  thimble.  She 
once  pinned  me  fast 
to  a cushion  of  her 
chair,  and  following 
her  example  I also 
pinned  her,  when 
she  was  not  looking, 
to  the  same  seat. 

Shortly  after,  she 
arose  to  perform 
some  duty.  It  was 
a triplicate  transit, 
when  the  threefold 
firm  of  Tileston, 

Cushion,  and  Oliver 
changed  base.” 

From  Mrs.  Diaz, 
who  has  published  some  popular  articles  on  the  subject  in 
the  Youthls  Co7npanion.^  we  also  collect  some  comical  pict- 
ures of  old-time  primary  schools. 

One  of  my  teachers,”  says  Mrs.  Diaz,  was  Marm  Leon- 
ard. She  used  to  wear  a ruffled  vandyke  and  a necklace  of 
large  blue  beads,  and  a row  of  reddish  false  curls  on  each 
side  of  her  forehead. 

Marm  Leonard  had  a faculty  for  contriving  punishments 
suitable  to  the  nature  of  the  offence.  For  example,  when 
little  Sethy  Cushing  tied  his  comforter  around  a kitten,  and 


372  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

hung  it  on  the  clothes-line,  she  tied  the  comforter  around 
little  Sethy  Cushing,  and  hung  him  on  the  crane  in  her  great 
kitchen  fireplace.  Of  course,  the  fireplace  was  not  at  that 
time  in  use. 

Scholars  who  told  lies  had  mustard  put  on  their  tongues. 
When  a little  girl  stole  a vial  of  boxberry  cordial  from  one  of 
the  other  children,  Marm  Leonard  held  that  little  girl’s  fingers 
over  the  redhot  coals. 

She  had  also  other  ways  of  persuading  us  to  avoid  the 
evil  and  take  to  the  good.  She  kept  a thin,  oval-shaped 
silver  locket,  marked  ‘ Best  Scholar,’  for  the  best  scholar 
to  wear.  She  also  had  ribbon  bows  of  blue,  pink,  light-green, 
and  black.  All  the  good  scholars  went  home  with  bright 
bows  pinned  on  their  shoulders.  The  marm  had  but  one 
black  bow,  and  that  was  reserved  to  be  pinned  on  the  one 
who  was  unusually  bad. 

I must  not  forget  to  mention  the  Catechism,  — or  ^ Cate- 
chise,’ as  it  was  usually  called,  — for  in  that  Marm  Leonard 
drilled  us  well.  At  the  summons,  ‘ All  stand  up  and  say 
your  Catechise  ! ’ we  all  stood  up  in  a straight  line  on  a crack 
of  the  floor.  She  put  out  the  questions  in  a high-pitched 
tone  of  voice,  speaking  very  fast,  and  we  answered  with  equal 
rapidity,  running  the  words  together  and  scampering  along 
without  stopping  to  breathe.  In  fact,  we  answered  in  one 
long  word. 

The  ^ Catechise  ’ contained  one  hundred  and  seven 
questions,  their  answers,  the  Lord’s  Prayer,  the  ‘ Ten  Com- 
mandments,’ and  the  Creed.  Some  of  the  scholars  knew 
the  book  through,  and  the  ‘ Primer  ’ besides. 

The  Primer  was  a thin  book,  about  five  inches  long  and 
four  wide,  with  blue  covers  and  leather  binding.  It  had  a 
woodcut  of  John  Hancock,  and  a number  of  very  small 
Woodcuts,  one  for  every  letter  of  the  alphabet.  These  were 
placed  up  and  down  the  pages,  six  in  a page,  at  the  left-hand 


An  Old-Time  School  Committee. 


373 


side,  each  with  its  couplet  at  the  right.  Thus,  for  ‘ A ’ there 
was  the  couplet, — 

“ ‘ In  Adam’s  Fall 
We  sinned  all/ 

In  the  picture  there  were  two  droll-looking  human  images, 
whose  bond  of  union  seemed  to  be  an  apple,  which  both 
of  them  were  holding.  They  stood  close  to  a tree.  It  looked 
hke  a cedar  or  a hemlock  tree,  but  we  knew  it  to  be  an  apple- 
tree,  because  there  were  apples  on  it.  We  were  sure  they 
were  apples,  for  we  had  heard  the  story  again  and  again. 
Around  the  trunk  was  coiled  a serpent  of  the  size  — so  it 
seemed  to  us  — of  a small  anaconda,  for  with  only  two  coils 
it  reached  from  the  ground  to  the  branches. 

For  ^ O ’ there  were  three  human  images,  two  of  them 
with  crowns  and  sceptres,  and  the  triplet,  — 

“ ‘ Young  Obadias, 

David,  Josias, 

All  were  pious.’ 

Beside  the  pictures  and  rhymes,  the  Primer  contained 
the  alphabet,  the  ‘ abs,'  a few  pages  of  ‘ spelling  words,’  a 
variety  of  ‘ Lessons  and  Maxims  for  Children,’  several 
prayers,  the  whole  of  the  Catechism,  the  Golden  Rule,  and 
a number  of  verses,  texts,  and  so  forth.” 

Mrs.  Diaz  in  the  same  admirable  papers  thus  gives  a picture 
of  an  old-time  school  committee  and  one  of  their  visits  to 
the  town  school : — 

It  was  always  a marked  event  when  the  ^ committee  ’ 
visited  the  school.  If  the  President  and  all  his  Cabinet  were 
to  walk  into  the  room  where  I am  writing,  they  would  not 
seem  half  so  stately  and  grand  to  me  as  did  those  four 
gentlemen  who  used  to  visit  the  school  once  or  twice  during 
the  winter.  They  came  up  from  town  on  horseback ; a 
wheeled  vehicle  was  rarely  seen  in  those  days.  Their  arrival 


374  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

was  usually  announced  by  some  scholar  who  had  peeped 
through  a crack,  or  who  had  stood  up  and  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

‘ Committee ’s  come  ! ’ was  the  whisper  which  ran  through 
the  room. 

Its  effect  was  magical.  The  schoolmaster,  startled  by  the 
sudden  silence,  would  throw  a hurried  glance  at  the  window, 
and  then  try  to  put  on  a serene  and  lamb-like  expression. 
We  would  listen  as  still  as  mice  till  we  heard  voices  outside ; 
then  came  steps  in  the  entry ; then  a rap  at  the  door.  At 
the  moment  of  their  entrance  the  stillness  was  such  that  we 
hardly  breathed. 

Oh,  how  majestic  they  looked  with  their  nice  broadcloth 
(our  folks  wore  homespun*),  their  ruffled  shirts,  their  heavy 
watch-seals,  and  their  gold-headed  canes  ! Walking  along  the 
alley-way,  they  fairly  lighted  up  that  dingy,  low-walled  little 
building.  With  what  an  air  they  looked  down  upon  us  ! 
How  could  anything  we  might  do  seem  good  in  their  sight  ? 

‘‘  They  usually  heard  the  classes  read,  looked  at  the  writing- 
books,  and  gave  out  ‘ spellings.’  Mr.  Bixby  was  the  most 
pompous  member  of  the  committee.  He  felt  himself  the 
grandest.  I remember  his  hanging  cheeks,  and  his  quick, 
puffy  way  of  talking.  I also  recall  what  he  once  said  when 
the  other  gentlemen  were  in  favor  of  our  taking  up  a new 
study. 

^ Oh,  it’s  of  no  consequence  — no  consequence  at  all ! 
They  are  not  intended  to  grace  a drawing-room  I 

The  ^ committee  ’ heard  us  all  read  and  spell,  turned  over 
the  leaves  of  the  writing-books,  talked  in  undertones  with  the 
schoolmaster  and  with  each  other,  said  ‘ a few  words  ’ to 
the  scholars,  — then  they  walked  out,  hats  and  canes  in  hand, 
and  the  whole  school  standing  as  they  passed  down  the  alley. 
When,  at  last,  the  closing  door  shut  them  out,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  school-room  had  met  with  an  eclipse. 


Boston  Latm  School. 


3/5 


We  listened  in  silence  while  they  trotted  away,  and  then, 
as  if  just  awakened  from  a dream,  scholars  resumed  their 
mischief-making,  the  schoolmaster  his  natural  expression  of 
countenance,  and  flogging,  hair-pulling,  and  ear- pulling  went 
on  as  usual,  accompanied  by  the  whizzing  of  rulers.” 


THE  BOSTON  LATIN  SCHOOL. 


The  Boston  Public  Latin  School  is  older  than  Harvard 
College,  and  was  the  first  educational  institution  of  the  coun- 
try. Its  first  masters,”  says  Henry  F.  Jenks  in  an  article  in 
the  Harvard  Register^  might  have  seen  Shakspeare  act  in 
his  own  plays ; its  second  master  preceded  John  Milton  and 
John  Harvard  at  Cambridge,  England,  by  nearly  a quarter  of 
a century.” 

It  was  doubtless  founded  by  John  Cotton,  ‘Svho  brought 
to  this  country  a knowledge  of  the  High  School  which  was 
founded  by  Philip  and  Mary  in  Boston,  Lincolnshire^  in  1554, 
in  which  Latin  and  Greek  were  taught.”  The  Boston  Latin 
School,  we  are  informed,  was  established  ^^on  the  13th  of  the 
2d  moneth,  1635.”  single  school  has  prepared  for  the 
larger  duties  of  life  so  many  distinguished  Americans.  The 
names  of  its  eminent  graduates  would  fill  pages.  We  give  a 
few  of  them  here  : — 


Patriots. 


Benjamin  Franklin. 
John  Hancock. 


Samuel  Adams. 
R.  T.  Paine. 


Governors  and  Lieutenant- Governors. 


Bowdoin. 

Eustis. 


Cushing. 

Winthrop. 


376 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


Presidents  of  Harvard  College, 
Leverett.  Everett. 

Laiigdon.  Eliot. 


Clergymen, 


Cotton  Mather. 

Joseph  Tuckerman. 

N.  L.  Frothingham. 

James  Freeman  Clarke. 
William  Henry  Channing. 


Henry  Ward  Beecher. 
John  F.  W.  Ware. 
Edward  E.  Hale. 
Phillips  Brooks. 


Mayors, 

Harrison  G.  Otis.  Frederic  O.  Prince. 

Samuel  A.  Eliot. 


Statesmen, 

Robert  C.  Winthrop.  Charles  Sumner. 

Charles  Francis  Adams.  William  M.  Evarts. 

George  S.  Hillard.  Charles  Devens. 

Literary  Men, 

R.  W.  Emerson.  Francis  Parkman. 

J.  Lothrop  Motley.  Alexander  Young. 

N.  P.  Willis. 

We  condense  from  an  article  in  Education  by 

a Boston  school  officer,  a brief  history  of  this  remarkable 
school : — ✓ 

Among  other  proceedings  of  ‘ ‘ a generall  meeting  upon  piiblique  no- 
tice,” held  “ 13**^  of  ye  2^  moneth  [April],  1635,”  we  find  the  following 
duly  recorded  : ‘‘  Likewise  it  is  gen^’ally  agreed  vpon  o*"  brother 

Philemon  Pormort  ” (sometimes  spelled  Portmorte)  “ shal  be  intreated 
to  become  schulemaster  for  the  teaching  and  nourtering  of  children  w*** 
us.”  For  his  support,  a tract  of  land  of  thirty  acres  at  “ Muddy  River” 


Boston  Latin  School. 


377 


(supposed  to  be  a part  of  Brookline)  was  allotted.  Other  grants  of  land 
were  subsequently  made  for  the  maintenance  of  a “Free  Schoole  for  the 
Towne. An  income  also  was  derived  from  the  letting  of  “ Deare 
Island  ’’  of  per  annum,  for  three  years,  1644-47,  which  was  appro- 
priated to  the  support  of  the  school.  On  the  expiration  of  the  lease  in 
1647,  it  was  renewed  for  seven  years  at  £14.  per  annum,  and  the  next 
year  was  extended  to 
twenty  years  at  the  same 
rent.  It  appears,  more- 
over, that  before  the  ex- 
piration of  the  twenty 
years — /.  e.,  in  the  year 
1662  — the  island  was 
leased  to  Sir  Thomas 
Temple,  Knight  and 
“Barronnight,”  for  thir- 
ty-one years  at  a rent  of 
£14  Si  year,  “for  the  use 
of  the  ‘ Free  Schoole.^  ” 

The  immediate  suc- 
cessors of  Mr.  Pormort 
were  Daniel  Maude, 

John  Woodbridge,  Rob- 
ert Woodmansey,  Ben- 
jamin T’  ompson,  and 
Nathaniel  Williams. 

One  of  the  ushers  of 
the  school,  for  some 
time  previous  to  the 

resignation  of  Mr.  Williams,  was  John  Lovell.  “ Master  Lovell”  may  be 
said  to  have  been  one  of  the  “institutions”  of  Boston.  For  four  years 
he  was  the  assistant  master,  and  for  forty-two  years  the  head-master  of  the 
Latin  School.  A part  of  this  period  was  a time  of  the  most  exciting 
character,  embracing  as  it  did  the  years  which  immediately  preceded  the 
Revolutionary  War.  Not  a few  of  the  men  who  were  prominent  in  those 
times'had  been  the  pupils  of  “Master  Lovell,”  and  had  been  subjected 
to  his  rigid,  discipline  as  an  instructor.  In  this  discipline  he  is  said  to 
have  been  rough  and  severe.  His  portrait  may  be  seen  in  the  Harvard 
Memorial  Hall,  “ drawn,”  says  Judge  Cranch,  as  quoted  by  Mr.  Jenks, 
in  his  sketch  of  the  Boston  Latin  School,  “by  his  pupil  Smibert,  while 
the  terrific  impressions  of  the  pedagogue  were  yet  vibrating  on  his  nerves. 


JOHN  LOVELL. 


378 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


I found  it  so  perfect  a likeness  of  my  old  neighbor  that  I did  not  won- 
der when  my  young  friend  told  me,  ‘ A sudden,  undesigned  glance  at  it 
made  me  shudder.’  ” Lovell  was  a bitter  Tory,  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
give  expression  to  his  sentiments  in  his  school.  It  is  not  unlikely  that 
views  advanced  by  a teacher  not  especially  beloved  by  his  pupils  may 
have  been  looked  upon  with  disdain  because  they  were  enforced  by  lips 
which  too  often  indulged  in  words  of  censure  and  fault-finding.  An  an- 
tidote, however,  to  the  Royalist  poison  was  found  in  the  teachings  and 
influence  of  his  assistant  and  son  James,  who  was  as  strong  a Whig  as 
his  father  was  Tory.  W^e  are  told  that  “the  two  masters  occupied 
desks  at  the  opposite  ends  of  the  room  ; ” and  a pupil  of  a later  day 
pictures  them  as  “pouring  into  infant  minds  as  they  could,  from  the 
classics  of*  the  empire  or  the  historians  of  the  republic,  the  lessons  of 
absolutism  or  of  liberalism.”  That  one  of  these  pupils  caught  his  inspi- 
ration from  the  so-called  “ rebel  ” James  is  plain  from  the  following 
incident,  which  is  related  of  Harrison  Gray  Otis  : “ Coming  to  school 

April  19,  1775,  found  his  way  stopped  by  Percy’s  brigade  drawn  up 
across  the  head  of  School  Street,  in  preparation  for  their  march  to  Lex- 
ington. He  had  to  pass  down  Court  Street  and  come  up  School,  and 
just  entered  the  room  to  hear  Master  Lovell  dismiss  the  boys  : ‘ War ’s 
begun  and  school’s  done  : Deponite  libros.^  ” Upon  the  evacuation  of 
Boston  by  the  British,  “Master  Lovell”  went  to  Halifax,  where  he 
died. 

The  books  used  at  this  period  were  : First  year,  Chee- 
ver’s  Accidence,”  Nomenclatura  Brevis,”  Corderius’s 
Colloquies.”  Second  year,  ^sop’s  Fables,”  Eutropius,” 

Ward’s  Lilly’s  Grammar.  Third  and  fourth  years,  Clark’s 
Introduction,  Caesar’s  Commentaries,  Tally’s  Orations,  the 
.^neid,  Xenophon,  and  Homer. 


“ The  methods  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Apthorp  Gould  (at  the  time  of  his 
election  a member  of  the  Senior  class  of  Harvard  College)  were,  in 
many  respects,  just  the  opposite  of  his  immediate  predecessors.  He 
sought  to  break  down  the  barriers  which  hitherto  had  existed  between 
teacher  and  pupil,  and  make  his  scholars  feel  that  he  was  their  personal 
friend.  Like  that  prince  of  instructors.  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold,  he  ap- 
pealed to  the  manly  and  generous  side  of  the  nature  of  his  scholars, 
inspiring  their  confidence  and  winning  their  affection,  while  he  com- 


Boston  Latin  School. 


379 


1645. 


manded  their  respect  in  the  enforcement  of  salutary  rules,  the  justice  and 
propriety  of  which  they  could  not  themselves  help  acknowledging.  Mr. 
Gould  held  his  position  some  fifteen  years,  1813-28,  when  he  resigned. 

“ The  successor  of  Mr. 

Gould  was  his  assistant, 

Frederic  P.  Lev.erett.  He 
is  best  known  as  the  au- 
thor of  the  Latin  lexicon 
which  was  so  extensively 
used  in  our  advanced 
schools  forty  or  fifty 
years  since.  He  re- 
mained in  office  three 
years,  1828-31,  when  he 
resigned  to  take  charge 
of  a private  school.  For 
four  years  previous  to 
the  year  of  Mr.  Lev- 
erett’s  resignation,  M r. 

Charles  K.  Dillaway,  a 
graduate  of  Harvard 
College  in  the  class  of 
1825,  had  been  the  sub- 
master. He  was  now 

chosen  master  of  the  school,  and  was  in  office  five  years,  1831-36,  when 
he  resigned,  and  Mr.  Leverett  was  reappointed  and  accepted,  but  before 
the  time  had  arrived  for  commencing  his  duties  he  died. 

“ Mr.  Epes  Sargent  Dixwell,  a graduate  of  Harvard  College  in  the  class 
of  1827,  and  sub-master  of  the  school  for  a year  and  nine  months,  was 
appointed  to  fill  the  place  made  vacant  by  the  decease  of  Mr.  Leverett. 
He  remained  in  office  till  1851  ; he  then  resigned  and  established  a 
private  school  in  Boston. 

“ The  successor  of  Mr.  Dixwell  was  Francis  Gardner,  himself  a pupil 
of  the  Latin  School,  and  a graduate  of  Harvard  College  in  the  class  of 
1831.  He  was  connected  with  the  department  of  instruction  from  the 
time  of  his  graduation  to  the  day  of  his  death,  about  twenty-five  years, 
during  all  this  long  period  being  absent  from  the  city  only  one  year, 
which  he  passed  abroad.” 


CHARLES  K.  DILLAWAY. 


The  Latin  School  was  begun  on  School  Lane,  now  School 


38o 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


Street,  where  City  Hall  now  stands.  In  regard  to  its  locations 
we  again  quote  from  the  article  in  Education : — 

“The  exact  position  of  the  first  schoolhouse  is  not  known  : but  it  is 
matter  of  record  that  just  ten  years  after  the  first  employment  of  Mr. 
Pormort  the  town  purchased  of  Mr.  Thomas  Scottow  his  dwelling-house 
and  yard,  which  at  this  time  (the  31st  of  March,  A.  D.  1645)  was  situated 
on  the  very  lot  upon  a part  of  which  the  City  Hall  now  stands ; and  that  in 


FIRST  LATIN  SCHOOL,  SCHOOL  LANE. 


the  October  following  the  constables  of  the  town  were  ordered  to  set  off  six 
shillings  of  the  rate  of  Mr.  Henry  Messenger,  the  northerly  abutter,  ‘ for 
mending  the  schoolm’^his  p^  of  the  partition  fence  between  their  gardens.’ 
On  this  spot  stood  the  first  schoolhouse  in  Boston  of  which  we  haxe 
any  positive  knowledge  ; edging  westerly  upon  the  burial-ground,  and 
fronting  southerly  upon  the  street  which  obtained  its  designation,  School 
Lane,  from  this  fact.  As  time  wore  on  the  old  schoolhouse,  which  had 
served  not  only  as  a place  for  nurturing  the  youth  of  the  town  but  also 
for  the  indwelling  of  the  master  and  his  family,  fell  into  decay ; and  in 
order  to  make  room  for  an  enlargement  of  the  neighboring  chapel,  it  was 
taken  down  in  1748,  and  another  building  was  erected  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street.  ‘ Master  Lovell’  opposed  the  removal  ; but  the  town 
agreed  to  it  in  a tumultuous  meeting  (April  18,  1748),  by  two  hundred 


LATIN  SCHOOL 


Of  IHt 
UHsvtHSin  Of 


lamois 


Harvard  College.  383 

and  five  yeas  to  one  hundred  and  ninety-seven  nays.  In  the  afternoon 
of  the  same  day  this  epigram  was  sent  to  Mr.  Lovell  : — 

“ ‘ A fig  for  your  learning  ! I tell  you  the  Town, 

To  make  the  Church  larger,  must  pull  the  School  down. 

Unluckily  spoken,  replied  Master  Birch,  — 

Then  learning,  I fear,  stops  the  growth  of  the  Church?  ” 

Dr.  Shurtleff  continues  his  sketch  : “In  course  of  time,  also,  this 
building  yielded  to  the  effects  of  age  and  inadequacy,  and  was  renewed 
about  the  year  i8i2,”  — on  the  site  of  the  Parker  House.  “ Up  to  this 
time  the  building  was  designated  as  the  Centre  Schoolhouse,  after  which 
time  it  was  properly  called  the  Latin  Schoolhouse.’  This  building 
gave  place  to  the  one  on  Bedford  Street,  erected  in  the  years  1843—44.” 

Strange  stories  are  told  of  the  discipline  of  these  old-time 
schools  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 

Good  Dr.  Johnson,  of  the  English  Dictionary,”  once  had 
a teacher  who  wrote  a spelling-book  and  dedicated  it  '‘To  the 
Universe  I""  Perhaps  it  was  the  comprehensive  mind  of  this 
teacher  that  made  Dr.  Johnson  a philologist.  In  speaking  of 
the  severe  discipline  of  the  schools  of  the  time.  Dr.  Johnson 
says  that  his  teacher  would  punish  a boy  for  not  answering 
a question,  whether  the  boy  had  any  opportunity  to  know  the 
answer  or  not. 

" He  would  ask  him  the  Latin  for  candlestick.,  and  if  he 
could  not  answer  he  would  beat  him.” 

General  Oliver,  in  speaking  of  the  punishments  inflicted  by 
one  of  the  teachers  in  the  Latin  School,  says  : — 

" He  gave  me  a whipping,  but  soon  after  discovered  that 
I was  not  guilty  of  the  act  for  which  I had  been  whipped. 
' Never  mind,  Oliver,’  he  said,  ' I will  put  this  to  your  credit 
for  the  next  misconduct,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before  the 
account  will  stand  all  right.’  ” The  General  says  he  soon 
cancelled  the  account. 

The  new  Latin  School  building  on  Dartmouth  Street  and 
Warren  Avenue,  erected  for  the  use  of  the  High  School  as 


384  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

well  as  the  Latin  School,  is  the  finest  structure  in  America 
devoted  to  educational  purposes,  and  the  largest  in  the  world 
as  a free  public  school.  It  was  begun  in  1877  and  com- 
pleted in  1880.  It  is  339  feet  long,  220  feet  wide,  and  con- 
tains fifty-six  school-rooms.  It  has  an  elegant  exhibition 
hall  62XS2,  and  a drill  hall  130X60.  The  halls,  passages, 
corridors,  and  stairways  more  resemble  an  academy  of  art  than 
a school  building.  Statuary,  pictures,  and  adornments  of  art 
meet  the  visitor  on  every  hand.  No  one  interested  in  edu- 
cation should  visit  Boston  without  seeing  this  elegant  little 
city  of  school-rooms,  and  gaining  the  inspiration  that  such  a 
noble  structure  inspires. 


HARVARD  COLLEGE. 

The  beginning  of  Harvard  College  in  Cambridge,  of  which 
we  would  speak  briefly,  was  similar  to  that  of  the  Boston 
Latin  School.  Boston  had  been  settled  six  years  when,  in 
the  autumn  of  1636,  the  General  Court  voted  the  sum  of 
;^400  towards  the  erection  of  a college.  In  November,  1637, 
the  college  was  ‘^ordered  to  be  at  Newtown,’’  and  in  the 
following  spring  it  was  enacted  that  Newtown  shall  hence- 
forward be  called  Cambridge,”  in  honor  of  the  place  of 
education  of  many  of  the  colonists. 

In  1638  Rev.  John  Harvard  of  Charlestown  died,  leaving 
to  the  institution  one  half  of  his  estate  and  the  whole  of  his 
library.  In  return  for  the  benefaction  it  was  ordered  that, 
The  college  to  be  built  in  Cambridge  be  called  Harvard 
College.” 

Mr.  Nathaniel  Eaton  was  the  first  master  of  this  school. 
He  belonged  to  the  old  type  of  teachers.  mere  Or- 
bilius,”  says  Hubbard,  fitter  to  have  been  an  officer  in  the 
inquisition,  or  master  of  an  house  of  correction  than  an 


Institute  of  Technology. 


385 


instructer  of  Christian  youth.’'  We  must  doubt  his  fitness 
even  for  the  position  of  an  officer  in  a penal  institution,  for 
he  demeaned  himself  ‘‘  in  such  a scandalous  and  cruel  man- 
ner,” as  a teacher  at  Cambridge,  that  he  was  dismissed.  In 
1638  commenced  the  regular  course  of  academic  instruction 
in  the  new  college,  and  in  1642  nine  young  men  graduated 
and  received  their  degrees. 

The  bequest  of  Harvard  amounted  to  only  about  ^780, 
but  it  promoted  the  establishment  of  a university  which  to- 
day has  more  than  twelve  hundred  students ; a million  in 
endowment ; theological,  law,  medical,  and  scientific  schools 
of  the  highest  reputation  in  America;  and  whose  elegant 
buildings  fill  a park  and  would  constitute  a town. 

John  Harvard  was  buried  in  Charlestown.  A monument 
in  the  old  burying-ground  was  erected  to  his  memory  by 
Harvard  students,  and  was  dedicated  in  1828. 


COLLEGES  IN  BOSTON. 

Boston  University  seems  destined  to  be  one  of  the  most 
popular  and  influential  schools  in  America.  It  was  founded 
in  1869  t>y  Isaac  Rich,  Lee  Claflin,  and  Jacob  Sleeper.  It 
includes  three  colleges,  four  professional  schools,  and  a post- 
graduate scientific  school.  It  admits  females  on  the  same 
conditions  as  males,  and  its  standard  of  admission  is  very 
high.  Its  principal  buildings  are  on  Beacon  Street,  near  the 
Athenaeum,  but  its  schools  are  located  in  different  parts  of 
the  city.  It  is  richly  endowed,  and  all  of  its  schools  are 
attended  with  remarkable  success. 

The  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology,  a school  of 
industrial  science,  was  founded  in  1861.  It  has  forty  instruc- 
tors and  three  hundred  students.  The  Institute  is  on  the 
Back  Bay,  has  a noble  Greek  front,  and  is  one  of  the  finest 
edifices  in  the  city. 


25 


386  Yotmg  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

Such  were  some  of  the  schools  of  the  past,  and  such  are 
some  of  the  great  institutions  of  learning  at  the  present  time. 
Truly  the  founders  of  Boston  built  better  than  they  knew.” 
The  influence  of  Boston  schools  is  felt  in  every  State  of 
the  Union,  and  is  one  of  the  elements  of  strength  of  the 
Republic, 


**When,  from  the  sacred  garden  driven, 

Man  fled  before  his  Maker’s  wrath, 

An  angel  left  her  place  in  heaven. 

And  crossed  the  wanderer’s  sunless  path. 

’T  was  Art,  sweet  Art ! New  radiance  broke 
Whei'e  her  light  foot  flew  o’er  the  ground ; 

And  thus  with  seraph  voice  she  spoke,  — 

^ The  Curse  a Blessing  shall  be  found.’ 

She  led  him  through  the  trackless  wild. 

Where  noontide  sunbeam  never  blazed ; 

The  thistle  shrunk,  the  harvest  smiled. 

And  Nature  gladdened  as  she  gazed. 

Earth’s  thousand  tribes  of  living  things. 

At  Art’s  command,  to  him  are  given  ; 

The  village  grows,  the  city  springs. 

And  point  their  spires  of  faith  to  heaven. 

He  rends  the  oak,  and  bids  it  ride. 

To  guard  the  shores  its  beauty  graced  ; 

He  smites  the  rock,  — upheaved  in  pride. 

See  towers  of  strength  and  domes  of  taste. 

Earth’s  teeming  caves  their  wealth  reveal. 

Fire  bears  his  banner  on  the  wave, 

He  bids  the  mortal  poison  heal. 

And  leaps  triumphant  o’er  the  grave. 

^ He  plucks  the  pearls  that  stud  the  deep, 

Admiring  Beauty’s  lap  to  fill ; 

He  breaks  the  stubborn  marble’s  sleep, 

And  mocks  his  own  Creator’s  skill  ; 

With  thoughts  that  swell  his  glowing  soul. 

He  bids  the  ore  illume  the  page, 

And  proudly  scorning  Time’s  control. 

Commerces  with  an  unborn  age. 

“ In  fields  of  air  he  writes  his  name. 

And  treads  the  chambers  of  the  sky ; 

He  reads  the  stars,  and  grasps  the  flame 
That  quivers  round  the  Throne  on  high. 

In  war  renowned,  in  peace  sublime. 

He  moves  in  greatness  and  in  grace ; 

His  power,  subduing  space  and  time. 

Links  realm  to  realm,  and  race  to  race.” 

Charles  Sprague. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


THE  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  BOSTON  POETRY. 

The  first  Boston  poet  was  Rev.  John  Cotton,  whom  Cotton 
Heather  calls  the  father  and  glory  of  Boston.”  He  was  the 
second  pastor  of  the  earliest  church,  a correspondent  of 
Cromwell,  and  a most  conscientious  and  zealous  preacher. 
He  thus  alludes  to  his  work  in  the  new  colony  in  one  of  his 
poems : — 

“ When  I think  of  the  sweet  and  gracious  company 
That  at  Boston  once  I had, 

And  of  the  long  peace  of  a fruitful  ministry 
For  twenty  years  enjoyed.” 

His  skill  as  a poet  may  be  seen  in  the  following  quaint, 
elegant,  and  ingenious  lines  addressed  to  Rev.  Thomas 
Hooker  of  Hartford  : — 

“ To  see  three  things  was  holy  Austin’s  wish, — 

Rome  in  her  flower,  Christ  Jesus  in  the  flesh, 

And  Paul  in  the  pulpit ; lately  men  might  see 
Two  first  and  more  in  Hooker’s  ministry. 

Zion  in  beauty  is  a fairer  sight 

Than  Rome  in  flower,  with  all  her  glory  dight : 

Yet  Zion’s  beauty  did  more  clearly  shine 
In  Hooker’s  rule  and  doctrine  : both  divine. 


390 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


‘‘  Christ  in  the  spirit  is  more  than  Christ  in  flesh, 

Our  souls  to  quicken  and  our  states  to  bless, 

Yet  Christ  in  spirit  brake  forth  mightily 
In  faithful  Hooker’s  searching  ministry. 

“ Paul  in  the  pulpit  Hooker  could  not  reach. 

Yet  did  he  Christ  in  spirit  so  lively  preach 
That  living  hearers  thought  he  did  inherit 
A double  portion  of  Paul’s  lively  spirit.” 

Governor  Bradford  of  Plymouth  Colony,  one  of  the  May- 
flower’s pilgrims,  was  also  a poet.  We  give  a single  specimen 
of  his  verse  : — 


TO  BOSTON. 

“ O Boston,  though  thou  now  art  grown 
To  be  a great  and  wealthy  town, 

Yet  I have  seen  thee  a void  place. 

Shrubs  and  bushes  covering  thy  face. 

And  house  in  thee  none  were  there. 

Nor  such  as  gold  and  silk  did  wear. 

No  drunkenness  were  then  in  thee. 

Nor  such  excess  as  now  we  see. 

We  then  drunk  freely  of  thy  spring. 

Without  paying  of  anything.” 

A picture  of  the  Golden  Age  indeed. 

The  favorite  poet  of  the  colony  was  Anne  Bradstreet, 
daughter  of  Governor  Dudley.  She  had  an  English  reputa- 
tion, and  was  greatly  admired  and  praised  by  Cotton  Mather. 
She  was  an  ambitious  writer  and  made  free  use  of  obscure 
classical  quotations.  One  of  her  long  poems  is  entitled 
‘‘  The  Four  Monarchies  of  the  World.” 

We  have  spoken  of  Mather  Byles’s  poetry.  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin wrote  poems,  and  John  Quincy  Adams  produced  several 
elegant  reflective  poems  which  may  be  found  in  many  col- 
lections. 


John  Pierpont. 


391 


Richard  H.  Dana,  who  lately  died  at  the  age  of  more  than 
ninety  years,  was  the  first  of  the  generation  of  poets  of  the 
present  century.  Al- 
though he  lived  to  be 
so  old  he  closed  his 
literary  work  in  middle 
age.  He  was  a man  of 
excellent  influence  both 
in  literature  and  private 
life. 

The  fine  historic 
poem  found  in  many 
school  Readers  and 
Speakers  entitled  “ The 
Dirge  of  Alaric  the 
Visigoth  ” was  written 
by  Edward  Everett  at 
Harvard  College. 

We  now  come  to  a generation  of  poets  whose  works  are 
the  classics  of  American  literature. 

PIERPONT. 

John  Pierpont,  author  of  the  ^‘Airs  of  Palestine,”  and  in 
his  day  the  poet  of  Boston’s  great  public  occasions,  was  born 
at  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  1785.  In  1819  he  was  ordained 
pastor  of  Hollis  Street  Church.  He  was  an  eloquent  ad- 
vocate of  the  temperance  and  the  antislavery  cause.  At  the 
age  of  seventy- six  he  went  info  the  Union  army  as  chaplain 
of  a Massachusetts  regiment,  and  was  one  of  the  oldest 
chaplains  in  the  field.  He  died  at  Medford,  1866.  As  we 
have  spoken  of  him  elsewhere,  we  give  but  a brief  notice  in 
this  connection. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


392 


Young , Folks  History  of  Boston. 


CHARLES  SPRAGUE 

was  known  in  the  city  as  the  poet-banker.”  Like  Pierpont, 
he  was  a descendant  of  one  of  the  fine  old  New  England 

families.  He  was  educa- 
ted in  the  Franklin  School. 
In  1825^  he  was  elected 
cashier  in  the  Globe  Bank, 
and  he  held  the  ofiice  until 
the  time  of  his  death,  or 
nearly  half  a century. 

He  was  a lover  of  his 
home,  his  family,  and 
friends.  Nearly  all  of  his 
best-known  poems  were 
inspired  by  home  affection, 
as  for  example  : — 

“We  are  all  here, 

Father,  mother,  sister,  brother.” 

CHARLES  SPRAGUE. 

His  lines  entitled  ^^The 
Brothers”  have  the  same  spirit,  and  show  how  sacred  to  him 
was  his  own  hearth-stone  : — 

“We  in  one  mother’s  arms  were  locked. 

Long  be  her  love  repaid ! 

In  the  same  cradle  wc  were  rocked. 

Round  the  same  hearth  we  played. 

“We  are  but  two  : be  that  the  bond 
To  hold  us  till  we  die ; 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  let  us  stand. 

Till  side  by  side  we  lie.” 

Next  to  his  family  Mr.  Sprague  loved  his  native  city.  We 
have  heard  it  stated,  we  know  not  with  what  truth,  that  he 


Henry  Ware,  Jr, 


393 


only  spent  one  night  out  of  the  city  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  that  on  that  occasion,  on  returning  home,  he  expressed 
a wish  to  a friend  that  twenty-five  years  might  pass  ere  he 
should  spend  a night  out  of  Boston  again.  His  finest  poem, 
with  which  nearly  every  schoolboy  is  familiar,  entitled  Ode 
on  Art,’"  and  beginning  : — 

When,  from  the  sacred  garden  driven, 

Man  fled  before  his  Maker’s  wrath,” 

was  written  for  the  Mechanics’  Fair,  or  the  6th  Triennial 
Festival  of  the  Mechanics’  Charitable  Association,  in  1824. 
The  exhibitions  of  this  Association  were  way-marks  in  the 
progress  of  Boston’s  industrial  arts ; the  Mechanics’  Building 
and  Hall,  on  Chauncy  and  Bedford  Streets,  were  built  from  the 
funds  of  this  society,  and  the  old  Mechanics’  Fair  was  a local 
pride  and  glory.  A permanent  building  for  the  exhibition 
has  just  been  completed  on  Huntington  Avenue. 

The  old  Chauncy  Street  Church,  which  Sprague  vaguely 
pictures  in  the  poem  entitled  ^^The  Winged  Worshippers,”  is 
gone.  The  elegant  structure  on  Berkeley  Street  known  as 
the  First  Church  is  its  successor.  The  society,  before  its 
removal  to  Chauncy  Street,  occupied  the  Old  Brick  Church,  a 
quaint  structure  famous  in  early  history,  which  stood  where  is 
now  the  Rogers  Building,  on  Washington  Street. 

HENRY  WARE,  JR. 

We  took  a walk,  on  a recent  Sunday  morning,  to  the 
Second  Church,  on  the  Boston  Back  Bay,  which  stands  be- 
tween the  Institute  of  Technology  and  the  New  Old  South 
Church.  The  beautiful  chapel  is  adorned  with  mural  inscrip- 
tions containing  the  names  of  the  pastors  of  the  church, 
beginning  with  John  Cotton  and  Cotton  Mather,  and  ending 
with  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  Among  the  mural  epitaphs  is 
that  of  Henry  Ware,  Jr.  He  was  pastor  of  the  church  as  it 


394 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


existed  at  its  most  flourishing  period  in  another  part  of  the 
city,  for  twelve  years. 

There  are  men  who  come  into  the  world  royally  endowed 
with  dispositions  and  graces  to  exalt  the  aims  and  thoughts  of 
those  whom  they  reach  by  their  influence.  Such  a man  was 
Henry  Ware.  He  was  born  at  Hingham,  Massachusetts, 
1794,  and  died  in  1843.  To  live  for  the  good  of  others  was 
the  inspiration  of  his  stainless  and  prayerful  youth.  For 
twelve  years  one  of  the  most  cultivated  congregations  in 
Boston  was  drawn  to  his  church.  The  edifice  where  he 
preached  was  called  the  Cockerell  Church,  from  the  un- 
churchly  bird  on  the  vane.  It  stood  on  Hanover  Street. 
Charlotte  Cushman  began  life  as  a public  singer  here. 

If  a discriminating  student  of  literature  were  to  be  asked 
what  he  considered  the  most  sublime  production  of  any 
New-England  poet,  he  would  probably  answer.  The  lines  to 
the  Ursa  Major  by  Henry  Ware,  Jr.  It  is  almost  the  only 
Miltonic  production  of  the  American  muse  : — 

“ Awake,  my  soul, 

And  meditate  the  wonder  ! Countless  suns 

Blaze  round  thee,  leading  forth  their  countless  worlds, — 

Worlds  in  whose  bosoms  living  things  rejoice, 

And  drink  the  bliss  of  being  from  the  fount 
Of  all-pervading  Love.  What  mind  can  know. 

What  tongue  can  utter,  all  their  multitudes ! 

Thus  numberless  in  numberless  abodes. 

Known  but  to  thee,  blessed  Father ! Thine  they  are,  — 

Thy  children,  and  thy  care,  and  none  overlooked 
Of  thee  1 No;  not  the  humblest  soul  that  dwells 
Upon  the  humblest  globe  which  wheels  its  course 
Amid  the  giant  glories  of  the  sky. 

Like  the  mean  mote  that  dances  in  the  beam 
Amongst  the  mirrored  lamps,  which  fling 
Their  wasteful  splendor  from  the  palace  wall. 

None,  none  escape  the  kindness  of  thy  care; 

All  compassed  underneath  thy  spacious  wing. 

Each  fed  and  guided  by  thy  powerful  hand. 


THE  “old  brick”  CHURCH. 


s' 

' ■ • ' ' -x"'  . • 


f '« 


Henry  Ware,  yr. 


397 


‘‘  Tell  me,  ye  splendid  orbs  ! as  from  your  throne 
Ye  mark  the  rolling  provinces  that  own 
Your  sway, — what  beings  fill  those  bright  abodes? 

How  formed,  how  gifted ; what  their  powers,  their  state. 

Their  happiness,  their  wisdom  ? Do  they  bear 

The  stamp  of  human  nature  ? Or  has  God 

Peopled  those  purer  realms  with  loftier  forms 

And  more  celestial  minds  ? Does  Innocence 

Still  wear  her  native  and  untainted  bloom  ? 

Or  has  Sin  breathed  his  deadly  blight  abroad. 

And  sowed  corruption  in  those  fairy  bowers  ? 

Has  War  trod  o^er  them  with  his  foot  of  fire  ? 

And  Slavery  forged  his  chains  ? and  Wrath  and  Hate 
And  sordid  Selfishness  and  cruel  Lust 
Leagued  their  base  bands  to  tread  out  light  and  truth, 
And  scatter  woe  where  Heaven  had  planted  joy  ? 

Or  are  they  yet  all  paradise,  unfallen 
And  uncorrupt,  existence  one  long  joy. 

Without  disease  upon  the  frame,  or  sin 
Upon  the  heart,  or  weariness  of  life, 

Hope  never  quenched,  and  age  unknown, 

And  death  unfeared ; while  fresh  and  fadeless  youth 
Glows  in  the  light  from  God’s  near  throne  of  love  ? 

Open  your  lips,  ye  wonderful  and  fair  I 

‘‘  Speak,  speak ! the  mysteries  of  those  living  worlds 
Unfold  ! No  language  ? Everlasting  light. 

And  everlasting  silence  ? Yet  the  eye 
May  read  and  understand.  The  hand  of  God 
Has  written  legibly  what  man  may  know,  — 

The  glory  of  the  Maker.  There  it  shines. 

Ineffable,  unchangeable  ; and  man. 

Bound  to  the  surface  of  this  pigmy  globe. 

May  know  and  ask  no  more.  In  other  days,^ 

When  death  shall  give  the  encumbered  spirit  wings, 

Its  range  shall  be  extended ; it  shall  roam. 

Perchance,  amongst  those  vast,  mysterious  spheres ; 

Shall  pass  from  orb  to  orb,  and  dwell  in  each 
Familiar  with  its  children,  learn  their  laws, 

And  share  their  state,  and  study  and  adore 
The  infinite  varieties  of  bliss 


39^  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

And  beauty,  by  the  hand  of  Power  divine 
Lavished  on  all  its  works.  Eternity 
Shall  thus  roll  on  with  ever  fresh  delight ; 

No  pause  of  pleasure  or  improvement;  world 
On  world  still  opening  to  the  instructed  mind,  — 

An  unexhausted  universe,  and  time 
But  adding  to  its  glories.  While  the  soul. 

Advancing  ever  to  the  Source  of  light 
And  all  perfection,  lives,  adores,  and  reigns 
In  cloudless  knowledge,  purity,  and  bliss.” 

We  make  this  copious  extract  from  the  poem  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  force  to  an  incident  that  is  not  well  known. 

Henry  Ware  died  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  When  the 
last  hour  was  approaching,  the  thoughts  and  visions  that  had 
wrapt  and  entranced  his  mind  when  writing  the  majestic 
poem  seemed  to  come  back  to  him  again.  His  mind  went 
up,  up  to  the  golden  circles  and  zones,  and  wandered  again 
among  the  stars.  ‘‘  My  mind,”  he  said,  ''  is  crowded  with 
precious  thoughts  of  death  and  immortality.  I feel  like  one 
who  views  the  parting  of  the  clouds  on  a dark  night.  Star 
after  star  begins  to  appear  in  the  space  beyond ; and  the 
stars  I see  are  but  the  sentinels  of  the  radiant  myriads  yet 
to  be  revealed..” 

The  origin  of  another  poem  — a once  popular  school 
poem  — illustrates  the  dignity  of  the  writer’s  character. 
Henry  Ware’s  friends  were  the  representatives  of  wealth  and 
cultured  conservatism.  But  right,  to  him,  was  the  first  con- 
sideration, and  he  stood  up  grandly  for  the  cause  of  the  slave 
when  antislavery  ideas  were  unpopular  in  Boston.  He  be- 
lieved that  the  moral  sense  of  America  would  break  the  fet- 
ters of  the  bondsman ; and  he  spoke  of  the  coming  day  of 
universal  liberty  with  the  fire  and  assurance  of  an  ancient 
prophet.  The  press  assailed  him ; the  pulpit  stood  apart 
from  him  ; but  the  lamp  of  his  faith  burned  with  a steady  flame. 
At  this  time,  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  the  great  news  of  the 


Henry  W.  Longfellow. 


399 


West  Indian  emancipation  came  ringing  over  the  sea.  Eng- 
land had  emancipated  800,000  slaves.  The  abolitionists 
held  meetings  for  congratulation  and  rejoicing.  Ware  was 
the  poet  of  the  enthusiastic  feeling,  and  his  muse  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  event.  He  produced  a poem  that  thrilled 
many  hearts  and  fired  the  reformers  throughout  the  land. 
It  was  a key-note  for  freedom,  and  it  stood  as  a prophecy 
for  twenty  years.  It  was  the  last  poem  of  his  life.  How 
grandly  it  reads  in  the  light  of  God’s  providence  to-day  1 
We  need  quote  only  the  opening  lines,  for  it  is  familiar 
to  all  who  have  had  experience  in  elocutionary  exer- 
cises : — 

“ Oppression  shall  not  always  reign, 

There  comes  a brighter  day/* 

The  story  of  its  origin  will  explain  the  words  which  used  ^ 
be  mystical  to  us  : — 

Old  Faneuil  echoes  to  the  roar, 

And  rocks  as  never  rocked  before 
And  ne*er  shall  rock  again.’* 

Ware  sleeps  in  Mount  Auburn. 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 

Some  time  ago,  while  collecting  material  for  this  chapter, 
we  went  to  Cambridge.  The  horse-car  stopped  on  a broad, 
shaded  avenue,  just  outside  of  Old  Cambridge,  leaving  us 
under  the  long,  bright  archway  of  October  trees.  It  was  a 
dreamy,  hazy  afternoon,  in  whose  still,  mellow  air  one  might 
hear  the  crisp  leaves  as  they  dropped  among  the  seared 
grasses  and  faded  flowers. 

A little  back  from  the  avenue,  garnished  with  billowy  shrub- 
bery which  the  early  autumn  had  so  touched  that  every  hedge 


400  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

seemed  to  have  its  burning  bush,  and  among  old  elms  illumi- 
nated by  spires  and  turrets  of  flame,  stood  an  ancient  man- 
sion, whose  airy  porticos  and  broad,  stately  appearance 
reminded  the  stranger  that  he  looked  upon  a relic  of  colo- 
nial days.  Everything  around  the  mansion  seemed  quiet, 
grand,  and  old.  The  great  elms  embraced  it  with  their 
glowing  arms ; centennial  elms  they  were,  under  whose  shade 
Washington  and  Lafayette  had  stood. 

The  house  is  the  residence  of  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfel- 
low. All  of  our  readers  who  love  his  pure  poetry,  so  full  of 
refreshment  and  exhilaration,  have  visited  this  old  mansion, 
at  least,  in  their  dreams. 

“ Somewhat  back  from  the  village  street 
Stands  the  old-fashioned  country-seat. 

Across  its  antique  portico 

Tall  poplar-trees  their  shadows  throw. 

And  from  its  station  in  the  hall 
The  ancient  time-piece  says  to  all,  — 

Forever  — never ! 

Never  — forever  ! ’’ 

It  was  in  this  old  house  that  the  Psalm  of  Life,^’  Ex- 
celsior,” Footsteps  of  Angels,”  Hiawatha,”  and  many 
other  poems,  familiar  as  household  names,  were  written. 

The  house  was  built  for  the  Vassal  family,  who  were  among 
the  most  wealthy  residents  of  Cambridge  in  colonial  days. 
When  under  the  Cambridge  elms  Washington  took  command 
of  the  American  army,  in  July,  1775,  capacious  mansion 
became  his  headquarters.  Here,  more  than  a hundred  years 
ago,  those  distinguished  persons  whose  names  are  associated 
with  the  Revolutionary  history  used  to  visit  him.  The  house 
afterwards  became  the  residence  of  the  professors  and  presi- 
dents of  Harvard  College.  In  1835  Mr.  Longfellow,  having 
been  appointed  Professor  of  Modern  Languages  and  Litera- 


Henry  W.  Longfellow,  401 

ture  in  Harvard  College,  took  up  his  residence  in  this  historic 
house. 

The  poet  was  born  in  Portland,  Maine,  in  1807.  In  his 
boyhood  he  was  noted  for  his  studious  habits,  and  such  were 
his  brilliancy  and  industry  that  he  entered  Bowdoin  College 
at  the  early  age  of  fourteen. 

It  is  reported  that  his  first  compositions  were  rejected  when 
offered  to  a publisher.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  true  that 
he  wrote  in  his  early  years  such  beautiful  poems  as  the 
^^Hymn  of  the  Moravian  Nuns,”  ^^The  Woods  in  Winter,” 
and  ^^The  Spirit  of  Beauty.” 

After  his  graduation  he  visited  Europe,  studying  art  and 
the  modem  languages  in  the  grand  old  continental  cities. 
His  poems  have  since  followed  him  into  all  the  countries 
through  which  he  travelled  in  youth,  having  been  translated 
into  all  the  principal  European  tongues. 

He  made  a second  visit  to  Europe  in  1835,  before  assuming 
the  duties  of  the  Harvard  professorship.  He  studied  in  the 
old  Northern  cities,  and  there  laid  the  foundation  of  those 
poems  and  works  associated  with  Scandinavian  history  and 
literature. 

Professor  Longfellow  has  lived  forty  years  in  the  old  man- 
sion. With  a poet’s  reverence  for  old  associations,  he  has 
refused  to  have  the  house  altered  in  any  respect,  but  has  filled 
its  antique  rooms  with  books,  pictures,  statues,  and  flowers. 

We  turned  from  the  arched  street  and  entered  the  open 
lawn,  in  whose  low  grass  the  iate  crickets  were  singing.  We 
were  led  into  the  broad  hall  of  the  old  mansion,  through 
which  a wide  staircase  ascends,  and  around  which  are  hung 
pictures  and  other  decorations  of  art,  and  where  once  the 
form  of  Washington  was  often  seen. 

“Up  and  down  the  echoing  stairs, 

Heavy  with  the  weight  of  cares, 

Sounded  his  majestic  tread.” 

26 


402  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

One  of  the  old  rooms  occupied  by  Washington  is  his  study, 
and  to  this  we  were  led.  It  is  a fine  apartment,  richly  stored 
with  cabinets  of  books  and  with  choice  works  of  art.  On 
the  table  is  Coleridge’s  inkstand,  from  which  was  possibly 
written  the  ‘^Ancient  Mariner.”  Among  numerous  relics 
near  at  hand  are  Tom  Moore’s  waste-paper  basket,  and  a 
small  fragment  of  Dante’s  coffin.  Green  plants  mingle  with 
the  works  of  art,  and  the  busts  of  departed  friends  recall  inci- 
dents of  the  years  that  live  only  in  books  or  in  memory. 

In  this  study  stands  an  old  clock,  a stately  piece  of  furni- 
ture, rising  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  burnished  with  the  deep, 
rich  color  that  only  age  can  give.  It  has  sounded  the  hours  in 
which  many  of  the  poet’s  best  compositions  have  been  writ- 
ten, and  is  made  familiar  by  the  poem,  The  Old  Clock  on 
the  Stairs.” 

Longfellow’s  poems  are  as  familiar  as  words  of  common 
comfort.  Yet,  unlike  these  words,  they  have  not  lost  their 
sense  of  daily  use.  Nearly  every  one  is  acquainted  with 
some  of  them ; most  people  know  many  of  them ; every 
schoolboy  reads  and  declaims  them  ; and  every  pulpit  quotes 
them.  When  a speaker’s  best  thoughts  struggle  for  expres- 
sion he  seeks  their  help ; when  bereavement  comes  into  the 
family  these  poems  are  moistened  with  tears.  There  are  few 
lives  which  they  have  not  befriended,  and  those  they  have 
touched,  their  virtue  has  refined  and  elevated. 

What  a flight  of  winged  words  ” has  gone  out  of  this  old 
mansion  to  minister  to  the  refreshment  of  the  world  ! 

ORIGIN  OF  LONGFELLOW’S  POEMS. 

It  may  interest  our  readers  to  know  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  most  familiar  of  Longfellow’s  poems  were 
written. 

The  Psalm  of  Life  ” was  written  in  Cambridge  on  a fra- 
grant summer  morning  in  1838.  Professor  Longfellow  was 


Longfellow  s Poems, 


403 


then  a young  man,  hopeful  and  aspiring ; life  lay  open  before 
him,  and  the  poem  but  reflected  the  glow  of  the  poet’s  spirit 
and  expressed  the  longing  of  his  heart.  He  regarded  it  at 
first  as  a personal  meditation,  like  a hopeful  entry  in  one’s 
private  diary,  and  refused  to  publish  it.  The  poem  was 
printed  at  last  and  flew  over  the  world.  A portion  of  it  was 
lately  found  in  Japan,  inscribed  in  Japanese  on  a fan,  which 
was  sent  to  the  poet,  who  now  has  it  in  his  possession. 

1 was  once  riding  in  London,”  said  Mr.  Longfellow, 
when  a laborer  approached  the  carriage  and  asked,  ^ Are 
you  the  writer  of  the  Psalm  of  Life  ” ? ’ 

‘ I am.’ 

‘ Will  you  allow  me  to  shake  hands  with  you  ? ’ 

We  clasped  hands  warmly.  The  carriage  passed  on,  and 
I saw  him  no  more ; but  I remember  that  as  one  of  the  most 
gratifying  compliments  I ever  received,  because  it  was  so  sin- 
cere.” 

The  Footsteps  of  Angels,”  read  by  so  many  with  tear- 
ful memories  of  the  loved  and  lost,  was  also  an  expression  of 
his  own  feelings.  Mr.  Longfellow’s  first  wife,  a lady  of  great 
excellence  and  loveliness  of  character,  accompanied  him  to 
Europe,  and  died  in  Rotterdam  in  1835.  Her  decease  in 
the  bright  morning  of  life  was  one  of  the  experiences  that 
make  his  early  poems  so  tender  in  their  suggestiveness  when 
they  speak  of  bereavement.  , 

“ Then  the  forms  of  the  departed 
Enter  at  the  open  door ; 

The  beloved,  the  true-hearted, 

Come  to  visit  me  once  more. 


‘‘  And  with  them  the  being  beauteous, 
Who  unto  my  youth  was  given. 
More  than  all  things  else  to  love  me, 
And  is  now  a saint  in  heaven.” 


404  Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston, 

Excelsior  was  written  late  on  an  autumn  evening  in 
1841.  The  poet  had  received  a letter  from  Charles  Sumner, 
which,  we  may  suppose,  was  full  of  noble  sentiments.  The 
word  ‘^excelsior”  caught  his  eye  on  a piece  of  newspaper; 
a poetic  vision  rose  before  him  in  harmony  with  the  occasion 
and  his  stimulated  feelings,  and  he  wrote  the  first  draught  of 
the  poem  on  the  back  of  Mr.  Sumner’s  letter. 

^‘The  Wreck  of  the  Hesperus”  was  written  in  1839,  at 
midnight.  A violent  storm  had  occurred  the  night  before. 
The  distress  and  disaster  at  sea  had  been  great,  especially  on 
the  capes  of  the  New  England  coast.  The  poet  was  sitting 
in  his  study  late  at  night,  when  the  shadowy  vision  of  the 
wrecked  Hesperus  came  vividly  before  him.  He  went  to  bed 
but  could  not  sleep.  He  arose  and  wrote  the  poem,  which 
came  into  his  mind  by  stanzas  rather  than  by  lines,  finishing 
it  just  as  the  old  clock  on  the  stairs  ” was  striking  three. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  says  that  he  was  led  to  write  the  romance 
of  Kenilworth  because  the  first  stanza  of  Mickle’s  famous 
ballad  of  Cumnor  Hall  haunted  him. 

‘‘  The  dews  of  summer  night  did  fall ; 

The  moon,  sweet  regent  of  the  sky, 

Silvered  the  towers  of  Cumnor  Hall, 

And  many  an  oak  that  grew  thereby.” 

Longfellow  attributes  the  writing  of  ^^The  Wreck  of  the 
Hesperus  ” in  part  to  the  dreary  sound  of  the  words  Nor- 
man’s Woe.” 

The  Hanging  of  the  Crane  ” has  a very  pleasing  history. 
Longfellow  made  an  evening  call  on  a promising  young  poet 
who  has  since  become  known  to  the  public.  He  found  him, 
as  the  story  is  told,  living  in  a cosey,  humble  way,  with  the 
tea-table  drawn  up  before  the  fire,  and  only  the  young  poet 
and  his  newly  married  wife  at  the  board. 

You  are  two  now,”  said  Longfellow,  or  words  to  this 
effect ; before  long  little  angels  will  gladden  the  household. 


Longfellow  s Poems, 


405 


and  you  will  need  a larger  table.  Years  will  pass  and  the 
table  will  grow ; then  one  by  one  the  loved  faces  will  leave 
you  and  you  will  be  two  at  the  table,  as  you  are  now.  Why 
do  you  not  write  a romance  on  the  Acadian  custom  of  the 
hanging  of  the  crane,  giving  distinctness  to  these  family  scenes 
and  changes?” 

Ten  years  afterward  Longfellow  reverted  to  the  subject, 
and  asked  the  poet  if  he  had  attempted  the  romance.  On 
learning  that  he  had  not,  he  himself  wrote  the  poem  which  so 
vividly  and  elegantly  pictures  the  usual  course  of  domestic 
history. 

The  story  of  Evangeline  was  first  related  to  Longfellow  by 
Hawthorne,  who  had  been  advised  to  write  a romance  upon, 
it.  But  Longfellow  gave  the  Acadian  jewel  a choicer  setting. 
The  story  of  Hiawatha  was  related  to  Schoolcraft  by  Abraham 
Le  Fort,  an  Onondaga  chief,  and  may  in  part  be  found  in 
Schoolcraft’s  Indian  Tribes.”  Longfellow  has  woven  much 
Indian  legendary  lore  into  the  warp  of  the  original  tradition^ 
which  is  in  itself  the  poetry  of  romance.  The  Tales  of  the 
Wayside  Inn  ” were  suggested  by  the  old  colonial  hostelry  at 
Sudburyj  which  may  still  be  seen. 

The  poems  of  Longfellow  touch  tenderly  on  sorrow,  for 
his  life  has  been  full  of  affections  and  friendships  broken  by 
death.  His  first  wife,  as  we  have  stated,  died  in  a foreign 
land.  His  second  wife  died  young,  under  very  afflicting 
circumstances.  His  intimate  friends,  Hawthorne,  Felton, 
Sumner,  Agassiz,  are  gone.  Thoughts  of  the  unseen  world 
seem  ever  welcome  to  his  mind.  One  needs  to  know  these 
facts  of  his  personal  history  to  understand  how  closely  his 
inner  life  is  reproduced  in  his  poetry.  His  poems  on  bereave- 
ment are  no  affected  sentiment,  but  the  sincere  language  of  a 
bereaved,  trustful  heart. 

The  shadows  were  lengthening  along  the  lawn,  and  the 
crickets  singing  plaintively  in  the  hedges,  as  we  turned  reluc- 


4o6  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

tantly  away  from  the  old  house  in  which  the  spirit  of  departed 
days  seems  to  linger,  and  around  which,  in  the  dim  future, 
other  memories  will  gather. 

It  was  evening  when  we  returned  to  Boston,  by  way  of  the 
old  Charles  River  Bridge,  which  some  thirty  years  ago  sug- 
gested to  Longfellow  the  writing  of  his  beautiful  poem,  The 
Bridge,”  beginning,  — 

“ I stood  on  the  bridge  at  midnight, 

As  the  clocks  were  striking  the  hour, 

And  the  moon  rose  o’er  the  city. 

Behind  the  dark  church-tower. 


“ And  far  in  the  hazy  distance 
Of  that  lovely  night  in  June, 
The  blaze  of  the  flaming  furnace 
Gleamed  redder  than  the  moon. 


“ How  often,  O how  often, 

Indhe  days  that  had  gone  by 
I had  stood  on  that  bridge  at  midnight. 
And  gazed  on  the  wave  and  sky ! 

“ How  often,  O how  often, 

I had  wished  that  the  ebbing  tide 
Would  bear  me  away  on  its  bosom 
O’er  the  ocean  wild  and  wide ! 

“ For  my  heart  was  hot  and  restless. 

And  my  life  was  full  of  care. 

And  the  burden  laid  upon  me 

Seemed  greater  than  I could  bear.” 


James  Russell  Lowell. 


409 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

Among  the  living  writers  of  poetry  that  Boston  claims  are 
James  Russell  Lowell,  J.  T.  Trowbridge,  T.  B.  Aldrich,  and 
W.  D.  Howells.  Though  belonging  to  Boston’s  literary  circle, 
they,  like  Longfellow  and  Whittier,  are  not,  except  for  brief 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 


periods,  residents  of  the  city.  Lowell  lives  at  Elmwood,” 
an  historic  estate  near  Mount  Auburn,  associated  in  literature 
with  his  thoughtful  work,  My  Study  Windows.”  Governor 
Oliver  was  mobbed  here  during  the  excitement  that  preceded 


410  Yotmg  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

the  Revolution.  Mr.  Lowell  was  born  in  1819.  In  1848  he 
published  ‘'The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal”  and  “The  Biglow 
Papers.’’  He  succeeded  Mr.  Longfellow  as  Professor  of 
Modern  Languages  and  Belles-Lettres  at  Harvard  University 
in  1855.  He  has  travelled  extensively  and  is  now  U.  S. 
Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James.  Mr.  Trowbridge,  lives  at 
Arlington,  on  the  borders  of  Spy  Pond.  His  place  is.  also 
associated  with  an  incident  of  the  Revolution.  It  is  on  Pleas- 
ant Street,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  streets  in  any  New  Eng- 
land town.  Mr.  Aldrich  has  done  some  of  his  best  literary 
work  at  his  country  residence  at  Ponkapog,  Massachusetts, 
but  his  home  at  present  is  in  Boston.  Mr.  Howells  resides 
in  Belmont  in  a unique  English  house  commanding  beautiful 
views.  He  is  neighbor  to  Mr.  Trowbridge. 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 

The  works  of  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  more  than  those 
of  any  other  poetical  writer,  are  associated  with  Boston’s 
history  and  with  recent  public  events.  He  lives  in  Boston,  is 
a home-poet,  and  for  half  a century  has  usually  been  invited 
to  celebrate  in  song  notable  public  occasions.  He  was  born 
in  Cambridge  in  1809.  He  is  a medical  professor  in  Har- 
vard College,  and  has  delivered  medical  lectures  before  the 
students  in  Boston  for  many  years.  In  1857  he  began  to 
publish  in  the  Atlantic  one  of  his  most  popular  works,  “ The 
Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast-Table.”  His  poems,  “ Cambridge 
Churchyard,”  “Boston  Common,”  “Under  the  Washington 
Elm,”  &c.,  are  local  pictures  in  verse.  One  of  his  poems, 
“ The  Dorchester  Giant,”  pretends  to  explain  a sight  that  any 
visitor  to  the  Highlands  may  see,  and  it  is  so  agreeable  as  a 
local  fancy  that  we  give  it  here. 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


\.mm 

Of  IHt 

UMWERSSn  Of  ill^WOlS 


The  Dorchester  Giant, 


413 


THE  DORCHESTER  GIANT. 

There  was  a giant  in  time  of  old, 

A mighty  one  was  he ; 

He  had  a wife,  but  she  was  a scold. 

So  he  kept  her  shut  in  his  mammoth  fold  ; 
And  he  had  children  three. 


It  happened  to  be  an  election  day. 

And  the  giants  were  choosing  a king ; 
The  people  were  not  democrats  then, 

They  did  not  talk  of  the  rights  of  men. 
And  all  that  sort  of  thing. 


Then  the  giant  took  his  children  three 
And  fastened  them  in  the  pen  ; 

The  children  roared  ; quoth  the  giant,  “ Be  still ! ” 
And  Dorchester  Heights  and  Milton  Hill 
Rolled  back  the  sound  again. 


Then  he  brought  them  a pudding  stuffed  with  plums 
As  big  as  the  State  House  dome  ; 

Quoth  he,  “ There ’s  something  for  you  to  eat ; 

So  stop  your  mouths  with  your  ’lection  treat. 

And  wait  till  your  dad  comes  home.” 

So  the  giant  pulled  him  a chestnut  stout, 

And  whittled  the  boughs  away  ; 

The  boys  and  their  mother  set  up  a shout ; 

Said  he,  “ You^re  in,  and  you  can’t  get  out. 

Bellow  as  loud  as  you  may.” 


Off  he  went,  and  he  growled  a tune 
As  he  strode  the  fields  along  ; 
’T  is  said  a buffalo  fainted  away. 

And  fell  as  cold  as  a lump  of  clay, 
When  he  heard  the  giant’s  song. 


414 


Young  Folks’  History  of  Boston. 


But  whether  the  story ’s  true  or  not, 

It  is  not  for  me  to  show ; 

There ’s  many  a thing  that ’s  twice  as  queer 
In  somebody’s  lectures  that  we  hear, 

And  those  are  true,  you  know. 


What  are  those  lone  ones  doing  now. 

The  wife  and  the  children  sad  ? 

O ! they  are  in  a terrible  rout, 

Screaming,  and  throwing  their  pudding  about, 
Acting  as  they  were  mad. 

They  flung  it  over  to  Roxbury  hills. 

They  dung  it  over  the  plain, 

And  all  over  Milton  and  Dorchester  too 
Great  lumps  of  pudding  the  giants  threw  ; 
They  tumbled  as  thick  as  rain. 


Giant  and  mammoth  have  passed  away. 

For  ages  have  floated  by  ; 

The  suet  is  hard  as  a marrow-bone. 

And  every  plum  is  turned  to  a stone. 

But  there  the  puddings  lie. 

And  if,  some  pleasant  afternoon, 

You  ’ll  ask  me  out  to  ride. 

The  whole  of  the  story  I will  tell. 

And  you  shall  see  where  the  puddings  fell, 

And  pay  for  the  treat  beside. 

MRS.  JULIA  WARD  HOWE. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  author  of  the  Battle  Hymn  of 
the  Republic,”  is  a resident  of  Boston.  She  has  written 
much  in  the  interest  of  the  charities  of  the  city  and  of  the 
social  improvement  of  women.  Among  her  best  poems  are 
Lyrics  of  the  Street.” 


James  T,  Fields. 


415 


JAMES  T.  FIELDS. 

The  grave  has  recently  closed  over  James  T.  Fields,  who 
for  years  was  the  central  figure  among  Boston  publishers, 
editors,  and  literary  men.  He  belonged  to  the  publishing 
house  of  Ticknor  & Fields. 

Mr.  Fields  was  more  than  an  author  or  a publisher.  He 
was  a sympathetic  gentleman,  who  passed  beyond  the  limita- 
tions of  business  and  letters,  that  he  might  become  the  friend 
of  the  writers  whose  works  he  published.  Several  notable 
authors,  as  a tribute  to  the  sympathy  of  the  man,  and  the 
generosity  of  the  publisher,  dedicated  to  him  their  best  works. 
Not  a few  poems  and  novels,  now  ranked  among  American 
classics,  owed  their  appearance  to  Mr.  Fields.  It  is  not 
strange  that  these  authors  should  become  the  friend  of  the 
man  who  had  discerned  their  gold  while  in  the  ore.  They 
associated  themselves  heartily  with  Ticknor  & Fields,  and 
helped  to  make  the  Old  Corner  Bookstore  ” one  of  the 
landmarks  of  Boston,  and  famous  in  the  annals  of  American 
literature. 

No  publishing  house  could  show  a more  brilliant  galaxy  of 
authors  than  Ticknor  & Fields.  Among  American  authors 
whose  books  bore  their  imprint  were  Longfellow,  Whittier, 
Lowell,  Holmes,  Saxe,  Bayard  Taylor,  Hawthorne,  Whipple, 
Hillard,  Stoddard,  Stedman,  Agassiz,  Aldrich,  Howells,  Trow- 
bridge, Alice  Cary,  Gail  Hamilton,  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps, 
and  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

Two  visits  which  Mr.  Fields  made  to  England,  where  he 
was  an  honored  guest,  put  the  firm’s  name  upon  the  works  of 
De  Quincy,  Thackeray,  Dickens,  Tennyson,  Kingsley,  Reade, 
and  Leigh  Hunt. 

Mr.  Fields,  though  intimately  associated  for  fifty  years  with 
the  literary  and  social  life  of  the  city,  was  a Boston  boy  ” 


41 6 Young  Folks'  History  of  Los  ton, 

only  by  adoption.  He  was  born  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hamp- 
shire, Dec.  31,  1817,  and  graduated  from  its  High  School  at 
the  age  of  thirteen.  He  came  to  Boston,  a poor  lad,  to  find 
a place,  where  he  might  earn  his  living.  He  found  it  in  a 
bookstore,  and  began  at  once  to  make  the  use  of  such  talents 
as  God  had  given  him. 

His  days  were  given  to  faithful  clerkly  service,  and  his 
nights  to  reading  and  composition.  So  well  did  he  serve, 
and  such  were  the  taste  and  discernment  which  study  de- 
veloped, that  within  twelve  years  he  became  a member  of 
the  firm.  He  made  the  name  of  Ticknor  & Fields  famous. 
Sagacious  in  divining  the  public  taste,  he  was  also  quick  to 
discern  what  young  authors  were  likely  to  become  eminent. 
His  genial  stimulus  so  encouraged  these  that  they  did  their 
best  work  for  the  man  who  trusted  them. 

While  serving  as  a clerk,  Mr.  Fields  developed  by  study 
and  practice  the  poetical  faculty  with  which  he  had  been 
gifted.  At  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  caught  the  public  ear  by 
a poem  delivered  before  the  Boston  Mercantile  Library  Asso- 
ciation, on  one  occasion  when  Edward  Everett  was  the 
orator.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a series  of  occasional  poems 
recited  at  public  commemorations  and  college  commence- 
ments. Harvard  and  Dartmouth  recognized  the  poet’s 
merits,  — the  former  by  making  him  an  A.  M.,  and  the  latter 
by  permitting  him  to  annex,  which  he  seldom  did,  LL.D.  to 
his  name. 

Mr.  Fields  also  became  favorably  known  as  the  contributor 
to  several  periodicals,  and  as  the  editor  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly,  Subsequent  to  his  retirement  from  the  publishing 
business,  he  stood  frequently  upon  the  lecture  platform. 
Appreciative  audiences  greeted  him,  and  listened  with 
pleasure  to  his  reminiscences  of  the  great  authors  whose 
works  were  their  favorite  reading. 

Mr.  Fields’s  merit  is  not  that  he  was  a great  poet  or  great 


A Protest. 


417 


writer  of  English  prose.  His  limitations  kept  him  within  the 
circle  of  minor  poets.  But  what  he  undertook  he  did  well. 
His  work  showed  no  marks  of  slovenliness.  Good  taste  dic- 
tated what  he  should  and  should  not  say. 

Mr.  Fields’s  literary  and  business  life  is  an  example  to  youth. 
The  poor  lad  made  himself  a name  in  the  annals  of  literature. 
He  did  it  by  a kind  heart,  an  energetic  habit,  and  patient 
industry.  He  strove  to  make  the  best  use  of  his  talents,  and 
to  do  so  thoroughly  his  work  that  no  carelessness  would 
beget  an  occasion  for  apology. 

He  was  a man  of  the  best  moral  influence.  He  had  no 
sympathy  with  those  who  think  it  bold  to  trifle  with  the 
claims  of  religion.  In  his  last  years  he  gave  to  one  of  the 
editors  of  a popular  publication  for  young  people  a little 
poem,  saying,  I want  to  give  my  testimony  to  the  value  of 
Christian  faith,”  or  words  of  that  import.  We  produce  it 
here : — 

A PROTEST. 

Go,  sophist ! dare  not  to  despoil 
My  life  of  what  it  sorely  needs 

In  days  of  pain,  in  hours  of  toil,  — 

The  bread  on  which  my  spirit  feeds. 

You  see  no  light  beyond  the  stars. 

No  hope  of  lasting  joys  to  come  ? 

I feel,  thank  God,  no  narrow  bars 
Between  me  and  my  final  home  ! 

Hence  with  your  cold  sepulchral  bans, — 

The  vassal  doubts  Unfaith  has  given  ! 

My  childhood’s  heart  within  the  man’s 

Still  whispers  to  me,  — “ Trust  in  Heaven  ! ” 


27 


“Do  thou  thy  work ; it  shall  succeed 
In  thine  or  in  another’s  day, 

And  if  denied  the  victor’s  meed 

Thou  shalt  not  miss  the  toiler’s  pay.’ 


CHAPTER  XXIL 


ASSOCIATIONS  OF  WHITTIER’S  POETRY. 

“Beautiful!  beauti- 
ful 1”  exclaimed  Presi- 
dent Washington,  in 
1789,  as,  riding  into 
the  town  of  Haverhill, 
his  eye  caught  an  ex- 
tended view  of  the 
Merrimack.  It  was 
autumn.  The  trees 
seemed  jewelled  with 
rubies  and  gold,  and 
the  streams  went  wind- 
ing away  like  a ribbon 
amid  the  unnumbered 
gems.  “ Haverhill,’’ 
said  Washington,  “ is 
the  pleasantest  village  I ever  passed  through.” 

His  eye  was  feasted  with  a continuous  picture  of  forest- 
crowned  hills,  dreamy  valleys,  shadowy  woods,  and  sparkling 
waters.  He  must  have  felt  that  such  a region  deserved  to  be 
the  birthplace  of  a true  poet,  and  would  be  in  time. 

There  are  poets  who  cull  flowers  from  a limited  field,  and 
poets  who  gather  blossoms  in  every  land ; poets  who  travel 
over  the  world  in  search  of  scenes  and  associations  of  ro- 


422 


Yoimg  Fo/ks'  History  of  Boston. 


mance  and  beauty ; and  untravelled  poets  to  whom  the  world 
brings  its  riches  in  the  solitude  of  fameless  places.  The  trav- 
eller finds  the  associations  of  Moore’s  poetry  on  the  streams 
of  many  lands,  but  the  scenes  of  Wordsworth’s  poetry  only  on 
the  quiet  lakes  of  Grasmere  and  Windermere. 

A like  contrast  presents  itself  in  two  of  our  own  poets. 
Longfellow,  spending  the  calm  decline  of  life  in  delicious  re- 
tirement on  the  banks  of  the  Charles,  has  delved  in  all  mines 
for  poetic  treasures.  He  wandered  over  Europe  in  his  stu- 
dent days,  studying  her  poets  in  new  languages,  as  he  trav- 
elled; and  his  own  songs  have  since  gone  over  the  same 
journey,  having  been  translated  into  all  the  languages  he 
then  learned.  Whittier,  in  a busy  little  town  on  the  Merri- 
mack, has  found  an  ample  field  for  poetic  thought  amid  the 
scenes  and  associations  of  home.  Though  he  has  temporarily 
lived  in  several  American  cities,^  his  muse  has  not  often 
wandered  from  a single  rural  district  in  Massachusetts,  com- 
prising less  than  twenty  square  miles. 

To  this  we  must  make  two  exceptions.  No  ‘‘pent-up 
Utica”  confined  his  muse  in  those  soul-stirring  lyrics  inspired 
by  his  intense  love  of  liberty  and  hatred  of  oppression. 
“ Massachusetts  to  Virginia,”  with  its  clarion  tones,  echoed 
and  re-echoed  from  every  hillside  and  through  every  valley, 
firing  anew  the  patriotism  so  long  dormant  in  the  great  and 
prosperous  North.  Closely  related  to  this  in  spirit  is  his 
“ Pennsylvania  Pilgrim.”  Ready  at  all  times  to  do  justice  to 
the  Pilgrims  of  New  England,  who  have  not  lacked  historian 
and  poet,  he  felt  that  the  Quaker  pilgrims  of  Pennsylvania, 
“ seeking  the  same  object  by  different  means,  had  not  been 
equally  fortunate.”  In  this  little  poem  he  has  tried,  and  not 
in  vain,  to  erect  a simple  monument  over  the  unmarked 
resting-place  of  one  of  the  two  “ historical  forces  with  which 
no  others  may  be  compared  in  their  influence  on  the 
people.” 


Associations  of  Whittier  s Poetry, 


423 


Whoever  reads  the  Pennsylvania  Pilgrim,’*  with  the  notes, 
in  which  he  has  rescued  a few  names  from  oblivion,  will  have 
a picture,  though  drawn  in  sober  colors,  as  becomes  the  sub- 
ject, in  which  the  figures  will  stand  out  from  the  canvas  in 
bolder  relief  as  the  ages  glide  away  and  the  spirit  of  Christian- 
ity is  better  understood. 

With  these  exceptions,  as  we  have  said,  the  muse  of  Whit- 
tier seldom  wandered  beyond  the  limits  of  old  Essex. 

But  these  twenty  square  miles  of  old  Essex  County  are  rich 
with  poetic  subjects,  scenes  of  rural  simplicity,  landscapes 
diversified  with  river  views  and  sea  views,  old  colonial  super- 
stitions, and  historic  and  legendary  lore.  From  the  calm  hills 
of  East  Haverhill,  where  the  poet  was  born,  to  the  murmur- 
ous beaches  of  Cape  Ann,  which  he  has  famed  in  ballad,  the 
region  is  worthy  of  a poet,  and  has  found  a poet  faithful  and 
true  to  the  trusts  of  home.  To  this  district  the  genius  of 
Whittier  has  always  turned  in  its  poetic  moods,  like  Gold- 
smith’s to  Auburn  and  Lissory,  and  like  Burns’s  to  the  Boon 
and  Ayr.  While  the  poetry  of  Longfellow  shows  how  thought 
is  enriched  by  travel,  the  poetry  of  Whittier  illustrates  the 
wealth  of  beauty  an  observant  mind  may  find  in  restricted 
limits  and  native  soil.  His  songs  are  not  the  notes  of  mi- 
grations, but  native  inspirations,  attuned  to  the  hills,  vales, 
and  rivers  of  home.  If  we  know  less  of  the  world  at  large 
by  this  untravelled  culture,  we  know  more  of  the  rich  en- 
dowments of  special  places  and  localities.  His  estimate  of 
Wordsworth’s  poetic  mission  is  a just  measure  of  himself : — 

“The  sunrise  on  his  breezy  lake, 

The  rosy  tints  his  sunset  brought, 

World-seen,  are  gladdening  all  the  vales 
And  mountain-peaks  of  thought. 

“ Art  builds  on  sand  ; the  works  of  pride 
And  human  passion  change  and  fall, 

Eut  that  which  shares  the  life  of  God 
With  him  surviveth  all.” 


424  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

The  localities  that  have  furnished  the  most  frequent  sub- 
jects for  Whittier’s  pen,  and  that  have  helped  form  the  frame- 
work, texture,  and  coloring  of  nearly  all  that  he  has  written, 
are  the  old  towns  of  East  Haverhill,  Newbury,  Newburyport, 
Gloucester,  the  thriving  town  of  Amesbury,  the  river  Merri- 
mack, and  the  fine  Atlantic  beaches  from  Cape  Ann  to  Mar- 
blehead. 

In  the  first  of  these  places.  East  Haverhill,  the  poet  was 
born,  in  1808.  He  is  a descendant  of  a Quaker  family,  who 
early  settled  upon  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack,  and  whose 
members,  from  early  colonial  times,  have  had  a local  reputa- 
tion for  piety,  good  sense,  and  hospitality.  In  the  perilous 
times  of  the  Indian  war  the  Whittier  family  refused  to  accept 
the  offer  of  armed  protection,  though  their  house  was  near  a 
garrison,  but  trusted  to  the  effects  of  their  honor  and  kind 
and  just  dealing  with  the  savages,  and  were  unmolested. 
Whittier’s  father,  as  described  in  ‘^Snow-Bound,”  was  “a 
prompt,  decisive  man.”  But  his  energy  of  character,  was 
quite  equalled  by  his  benevolence  ; for  he  was  always  chari- 
table to  others’  failings,  and  good  to  the  poor.  His  mother 
was  a patient,  loving  woman,  with  a heart  to  feel  for  every 
one,  always  contented  and  happy  in  the  affection  of  her  chil- 
dren. 

The  family  library  consisted  of  few  books,  chiefly  of  a reli- 
gious character,  and  among  these  “ The  Pilgrim’s  Progress  ” 
seems  to  have  been  the  favorite  of  John’s  early  years.  The 
district  school  was  not  favorable  to  large  literary  acquire- 
ments, being  kept  by  an  odd  genius,  who  was  sometimes 
more  fond  of  his  toddy  than  his  pupils,  and  who  at  these 
intervals  used  to  have  sharp  words  with  his  wife,  who  tended 
her  baby  in  an  adjoining  room.  The  school-room  and  the 
queer  old  pedagogue  are  described  in  some  lines  “ To  my 
Old  Schoolmaster,”  with  much  tenderness  of  feeling  and  an 
evasive  deliciousness  of  humor  that  makes  the  smile  tremble 
on  the  reader’s  lips  : — 


THE  CARWITHAM  VIEW  OF  BOSTON  ABOUT  I730. 


mmi 

Of  fHt 

UNlVERSiTVQf  ILLiNOSS 


Associations  of  Whittier's  Poetry. 


427 


“Through  tlie  cracked  and  crazy  wall 
Came  the  cradle-rock  and  squall, 

And  the  good  man’s  voice  at  strife 
With  his  shrill  and  tipsy  wife, 

Luring  us  by  stories  old. 

With  a comic  unction  told. 

More  than  by  the  eloquence 
Of  terse  birchen  arguments.” 

The  picture  of  Whittier’s  early  home,  which  was  as  hospitable 
as  that  which  wandering  Oliver  Goldsmith  so  much  loved  to 
remember,  is  familiar  to  all  the  readers  of  Snow-Bound.” 
The  very  barn  is  as  a familiar  place,  and  all  the  members 
of  the  old  family  are  acquaintances.  The  reader  remembers 
the  kind-hearted  uncle,  innocent  of  books,”  — 

“A  simple,  guileless,  child-like  man. 

Content  to  live  where  life  began.” 

the  sweet-faced  elder  sister,”  — 

“ How  many  a poor  one’s  blessing  went 
With  thee  beneath  the  low  green  tent 
Whose  curtain  never  outward  swings.” 

and  even  poor  crazy  Harriet  Livermore,  whose  visits  were  the 
one  terror  to  the  children  of  the  house. 

Whittier  speaks  with  great  tenderness  of  the  insanity  of  this 
last-named  religious  enthusiast : — 

“ Whatever  her  troubled  path  may  be, 

The  Lord’s  sweet  pity  with  her  go  ! 

The  outward  wayward  life  we  see. 

The  hidden  springs  we  may  not  know. 

Nor  is  it  given  us  to  discern 
What  threads  the  fatal  sisters  spun, 

Through  what  ancestral  years  has  i*un 
The  sorrow  with  the  woman  born  ; 

What  forged  her  cruel  chain  of  moods, 

What  set  her  feet  in  solitudes.” 


428  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

She  was  a woman  of  wonderful  genius,  and  with  a kindling 
fancy  that  startled  those  around  her  ;•  but  she  was  harsh  and 
cruel  in  her  darker  moods,  and  sometimes  inflicted  personal 
violence  on  the  children,  to  whom  she  was  an  object  of  awe. 
She  expected  to  see  the  coming  of  the  Lord  with  her  own 
eyes,  and,  in  this  confidence,  set  out  for  Jerusalem. 

“ Through  Smyrna’s  plague- hushed  thoroughfares, 

Up  sea-set  Malta’s  rocky  stairs, 

Gray  olive  slopes  of  hills  that  hem 
Thy  tombs  and  shrines,  Jerusalem, 

Her  tireless  feet  have  held  their  way  ; 

And  still  unrestful,  bowed  and  gray, 

She  watches  under  Eastern  skies, 

With  hope  each  day  renewed  and  fresh. 

The  Lord’s  quick  coming  in  the  flesh, 

Whereof  she  dreams  and  prophesies.” 

It  was  in  Haverhill  that  Whittier,  in  boyhood,  wrote  his 
first  poems.  He  was,  at  the  time,  an  almost  unlettered  and 
a very  hard-working  farmer’s  boy,  upon  whom  the  cares  and 
responsibilities  incident  to  New  England  farm-life  had  come 
early,  and  who  had  little  home-sympathy  in  fostering  a poetic 
taste.  He  sent  one  of  these  early  rhymes,  with  much  timid- 
ity, to  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  then  an  obscure  editor  of  a 
free-speech  paper,  published  in  Newburyport. 

It  met  with  a more  favorable  reception  than  one  of  Long- 
fellow’s early  efforts,  which  was  returned  with  the  gratuitous 
advice  to  the  author,  to  buckle  down  to  the  law.”  Mr. 
Garrison,  on  going  into  the  office  one  day,  found  the  poem 
under  the  door.  It  was  written  on  coarse  paper  and  in  blue 
ink,  and,  thinking  it  was  doggerel,  he  was  about  to  throw  it 
into  the  waste-basket,  when  some  good  angel  of  conscience 
stayed  his  hand,  and  he  gave  it  a reading.  In  the  poem  he 
discovered  a poet.  Other  poems  arrived  from  the  same 
source,  and  he  at  last  inquired  of  the  postman  from  what 


Assodatwns  of  Whittier  s Poetry,  429 

quarter  these  manuscripts  came.  The  postman  believed  that 
tjiey  came  from  a farmer's  boy  in  East  Haverhill.  I will 
ride  over  and  see  him,"  said  Garrison ; and  he  made  good 
the  generous  resolution.  He  found  the  young  poet  at  work 
with  his  father  on  the  old  place.  It  was  the  first  meeting  of 
the  two  philanthropists,  who  were  to  become  so  famous  in 
the  antislavery  contest,  and  wield  so  strong  an  influence  in 
the  world. 

Young  Whittier  acknowledged  to  Garrison  the  authorship 
of  the  poems.  The  confession  may  have  been  hardly  pleas- 
ing to  Whittier’s  father,  who,  adhering  to  plain  Quaker  prin- 
ciples, did  not  look  upon  poetry  as  a very  useful  or  promising 
vocation.  Garrison  urged  the  duty  of  sending  a boy  of  such 
genius  to  school;  but  though  the  Quaker  farmer  did  not 
seem  convinced,  John  was  soon  after  sent  to  the  academy. 

Whittier  taught  school  for  a time,  and  the  district  trustee 
thought  him  “ a good  tutorer."  He  came  to  Boston  as  an 
editor  in  1829 ; went  to  Hartford,  in  1830,  to  take  charge  of 
the  New  England  Weekly;  and  afterward  returned  to 
Haverhill,  to  engage  in  agricultural  pursuits.  In  1835  he 
was  elected  to  the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  and  afterward 
went  to  Philadelphia  as  an  editor  of  the  Freeman,  These 
experiences  are  hardly  brought  into  public  notice  in  his 
poems.  His  Indian  legends,  recounting  the  old  tales  he  had 
heard  at  Haverhill,  were  only  passably  successful ; his  poetic 
genius  was  of  slow  growth,  and  its  recognition  was  slow. 

But  his  opportunity  came  at  last.  The  antislavery  conflict 
furnished  him  a subject  that  kindled  the  lyric  fire  in  his  soul. 
His  stirring  odes,  written  at  this  period,  which  embraced  the 
latter  part  of  the  brief  portion  of  his  life  devoted  to  editing 
and  politics,  are  everywhere  known,  and,  as  they  are  not 
directly  connected  with  our  subject,  we  pass  their  history. 

Whittier’s  love  of  retirement  led  him  to  the  Merrimack 
again.  He  settled  at  Amesbury,  where  his  purely  literary  life 


430 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


maybe  said  to  have  begun.  Here  he  wrote  ^^The  Chapel 
of  the  Hermits/’  '^Snow-Bound,”  "The  Tent  on  the  Beach,” 
" In  War  Time,”  " Among  the  Hills,”  and  nearly  all  of  the 
domestic  ballads  which  have  become  household  words. 

His  home  is  a simple  cottage,  near  the  skirts  of  the  town, 
plain  without,  but  with  an-  air  of  hospitable  comfort  within. 
Near  it,  on  the  borders  of  a tangled  grove,  is  the  little 
Quaker  church,  looking  like  an  old-fashioned  country  school- 
house,  standing,  as  it  does,  " at  the  parting  of  the  ways.” 
Here,  on  Thursdays  and  Sundays,  the  poet  used  to  resort, 
with  a few  descendants  of  the  old  Quaker  families,  for  silent 
worship.  Many  of  his  devout  meditations  here  have  doubt- 
less proved  the  germs  of  those  religious  poems  which  have 
gone  forth  with  their  messages  of  love  and  peace  to  the 
world. 


We  rose,  and  slowly  homeward  turned, 

While  down  the  west  the  sunset  burned  ; 

And,  in  its  light,  hill,  wood,  and  tide, 

And  human  forms  seemed  glorified. 

“The  village  homes  transfigured  stood, 

The  purple  bluffs,  whose  belting  wood 
Across  the  waters  leaned  to  hold 
The  yellow  leaves  like  lamps  of  gold. 

“ Then  spake  my  friend  : ‘ Thy  words  are  true  : 

Forever  old,  forever  new. 

These  home-seen  splendors  are  the  same 
Which  over  Eden’s  sunsets  came.’  ” 

His  house,  on  his  retirement,  was  in  charge  of  his  sister, 
Elizabeth  H.  Whittier,  a woman  richly  endowed  in  mind, 
with  a sweet  face  and  disposition,  a pure,  loving  heart,  and 
an  ever  conscientious  life.  The  love  of  the  two  for  each 
other  was  like  that  of  Wordsworth  for  his  sister,  or  of  Charles 


Associations  of  Whittier  s Poetry,  431 

and  Mary  Lamb.  He  speaks  of  this  sweet  fountain  of  affec- 
tion again  and  again  in  his  poems,  and  pays  a most  touching 
tribute  to  her  memory  in  ‘‘  Snow-Bound.*’  She  herself  was 
a poet,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  read  to  her  the  first  copy 
of  what  he  wrote.  He  has  gathered  into  Hazel  Blossoms  ” 
several  of  her  best  poems  with  his  own.  Since  she  died,” 
he  once  remarked  to  a friend,  I cannot  tell  whether  what 
I have  written  is  good  for  anything  or  not.” 

The  years  immediately  following  the  establishment  of  the 
Whittiers  at  their  home  in  Amesbury  are  among  the  most 
fruitful  in  the  poet’s  history.  There  was  a quiet  beauty  about 
their  home  whose  charm  was  its  simplicity.  The  poet  had  a 
delightful  garden ; little  animals  and  pets  were  ever  around 
him  : a bantam  now  had  the  freedom  of  the  kitchen,  and 
now  a gray  parrot  talked  with  him,  very  profoundly,  from  the 
back  of  his  chair. 

Eminent  people  shared  the  plain  hospitality  of  the  sunny 
rooms.  Joseph  Sturge  found  a welcome  here.  Sturge,  like 
Whittier,  was  a descendant  of  a noted  line  of  the  gray 
fathers.  Like  Whittier,  he  was  born  in  a rural  town,  reared 
in  rustic  simplicity,  and  entered  con  amore  into  the  struggle 
against  slavery.  He  came  to  this  country  full  of  antislavery 
zeal,  and  each  heart  — the  poet’s  and  the  philanthropist’s  — 
knew  its  mate.  After  the  death  of  Sturge’s  wife  and  child, 
his  sister  cared  for  his  home.  Both  Whittier  and  his  sister 
made  his  visit  the  occasion  for  verse-wTiting.  When  the 
sister  of  the  reformer  died,  Whittier  wrote  to  him  : — 

“ Thine  is  a grief  the  depth  of  which  another 
May  never  know ; 

Yet,  o’er  the  waters,  O my  stricken  brother  ! 

To  thee  I go. 

“ I lean  my  heart  unto  thee,  sadly  folding 
Thy  hand  in  mine  ; 

With  even  the  weakness  of  my  soul  upholding 
The  strength  of  thine.” 


432 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


The  death  of  Sturge  strongly  affected  the  poet,  and  was 
made  the  occasion  of  the  finest  lines  that,  perhaps,  he  has 
ever  written,  beginning  : — 

“ In  the  fair  land  o’er  watched  by  Ischia’s  mountains, 

Across  the  charmed  bay, 

Whose  blue  waves  keep  with  Capri’s  silver  fountains. 

Perpetual  holiday, 

A king  lies  dead,”  &c. 

We  have  spoken  of  two  of  the  towns  in  old  Essex  most 
intimately  associated  with  his  poetry,  — East  Haverhill,  the 
scene  of  ‘‘  Snow-Bound ; ” and  Amesbury,  the  scene  of  his 
home  ballads,  and  the  place  in  which  most  of  the  poems 
having  political  reference  were  written.  His  muse,  with  all 
of  its  limitations,  has  a somewhat  wider  local  range.  The 
Merrimack,  on  which  he  was  born,  and  from  which  he  has 
never  long  wandered,  may  be  considered  as  his  ‘‘river  of 
song : ’’  — 

“We  know  the  world  is  rich  in  streams 
Renowned  in  song  and  story, 

Whose  music  murmurs  -through  our  dreams 
Of  human  love  and  glory  : 

We  know  that  Arno’s  banks  are  fair. 

And  Rhine  has  castled  shadows, 

And,  poet-tuned,  the  Doon  and  Ayr 
Go  singing  down  their  meadows. 

“ But  while,  unpictured  and  unsung 
By  painter  or  by  poet, 

Our  river  waits  the  tuneful  tongue 
And  cunning  hand  to  show  it,  — 

We  only  know  the  fond  skies  lean 
Above  it,  warm  with  blessing, 

And  the  sweet  soul  of  our  Undine 
Awakes  to  our  caressing.” 


AN  OLD-TIME  HUSKING  FROLIC. 


0^  # 


0^ 


Associations  of  Whittier s Poetry,  435 

The  old  towns  of  Newbury  and  Newbury  port  also  share 
the  immortality  of  his  verse.  The  traveller  who  visits  the 
tomb  of  Whitefield  in  the  Federal  Street  Church,  in  New- 
buryport,  will  vividly  call  to  mind  the  lines  entitled  ‘‘The 
Preacher.” 

“Under  the  church  of  Federal  Street, 

Under  the  tread  of  its  Sabbath  feet, 

Walled  about  by  its  basement  stones, 

Lie  the  marvellous  preacher’s  bones. 


“Long  shall  the  traveller  strain  his  eye 
From  the  railroad  car  as  it  plunges  by, 

And  the  vanishing  town  behind  him  search 
For  the  slender  spire  of  the  Whitefield  Church.” 

Gloucester,  with  its  fantastic  ghost  lore,  against  whose  gar- 
rison the  spirits  of  the  air,  in  old  colonial  days,  were  sup- 
posed to  wage  a warfare ; Marblehead,  with  old-time  dialect, 
more  strange  when  listened  to  than  when  seen  in  print,  in 
the  refrain  of  “ Skipper  Ireson’s  Ride ; ” the  curving  beaches 
that  sweep  away  from  the  mouth  of  the  Merrimack,  on  which 
the  poet  once  pitched  his  summer  tent  with  Fields,  the  poet 
and  the  second  Atlantic  editor,  who  could  decline  a MS.  so 
neatly  that 

“Bards,  whose  name  is  legion,  if  denied, 

Bore  off  alike  intact  their  verses  and  their  pride ; ” 

and  with  Bayard  Taylor,  who, 

“ In  idling  mood,  had  from  him  hurled 
The  poor  squeezed  orange  of  the  world,”  — 

all  have  a place  in  the  poet’s  local  panorama.  The  “ Songs 
of  Labor,”  especially  “The  Shoemakers,”  “The  Drovers,” 
“The  Huskers,”  and  “ The  Fishermen,”  are  all  home  scenes, 
as  faithfully  pictured  as  they  are  familiar  to  the  dwellers  in 
“old  Essex.” 


%ry. 


How  beautiful  it  was,  that  one  bright  day 
In  the  long  week  of  rain  ! 

Though  all  its  splendor  could  not  chase  away 
The  omnipresent  pain. 

‘‘  The  lovely  town  was  white  with  apple-blooms, 

And  the  great  elms  o’erhead 

Dark  shadows  wove  on  their  aerial  looms 
Shot  through  with  golden  thread. 

“ Across  the  meadows,  by  the  gray  old  manse. 

The  historic  river  flowed  : 

I was  as  one  who  wanders  in  a trance. 

Unconscious  of  his  road. 

The  faces  of  familiar  friends  seemed  strange: 
Their  voices  I could  hear. 

And  yet  the  words  they  uttered  seemed  to  change 
Their  meaning  to  my  ear. 

For  the  one  face  I looked  for  was  not  there. 

The  one  low  voice  was  mute ; 

Only  an  unseen  presence  filled  the  air, 

And  baffled  my  pursuit. 

‘‘  Now  I look  back,  and  meadow,  manse,  and  stream 
Dimly  my  thought  defines  ; 

I only  see  — a dream  within  a dream  — 

The  hill-top  hearsed  with  pines. 

I only  hear  above  his  place  of  rest 
Their  tender  undertone, 

The  infinite  longings  of  a troubled  breast, 

The  voice  so  like  his  own. 

“ There  in  seclusion  and  remote  from  men 
The  wizard  hand  lies  cold, 

Which  at  its  topmost  speed  let  fall  the  pen, 

And  left  the  tale  half  told. 

‘‘  Ah  ! who  shall  lift  that  wand  of  magic  power, 

And  the  lost  clew  regain  ? 

TTie  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin’s  tower 
Unfinished  must  remain  ! ” 


Longfellow. 


% 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE  CONCORD  AUTHORS  AND  THE  ASSOCIATIONS 
OF  THEIR  WORKS. 

Lake  Walden,  cool 
and  delicious,  and  full 
of  summer  splendor  ! 
the  memory  of  it  haunts 
one  in  midwinter  days 
like  a dream.  It  is 
indeed  little  more  than 
a pond  ; but  the  circle 
of  hills  that  surround 
it  exhibit  the  perfec- 
tion of  New  England 
woods,  and  few  lake- 
lets  are  always  so  deep, 
so  clear,  and  so  calm 
in  summer-time. 

Away  from  this  shel-  ralph  waldo  emerson. 

tered  sheet  of  water 

on  every  hand  stretch  Walden  woods,  the  dark  green  needles 
of  the  pine  contrasting  with  the  delicate  tints  of  the  oak 
leaves.  The  summer  winds  haunt  the  pine  tops,  as  Thoreau’s 
flute  once  haunted  the  tenantless  hills.  The  shadowy  under- 
growth is  a tangled  mass  of  flowers  and  ferns,  fufl  of  sweet 
odors  in  the  morning,  and  beautiful  with  a veiled,  half- 
screened  light  during  the  day.  The  farms  of  Concord  here 
and  there  penetrate  these  woods.  It  was  here  that  Thoreau 


440  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

read  and  wrote,  and  here  Emerson’s  “ Wood-Notes  ” were 
inspired. 

The  literary  period  of  Concord  began  about  the  year  1841, 
or  soon  after  Emerson  resigned  the  charge  of  the  Second 
Church  in  Boston,  withdrew  from  society,  and  went  to  the 
borders  of  Walden  woods  to  live.  Few  young  ministers  ever 
ascended  a more  popular  pulpit  than  that  which  Emerson  left 
after  a pastorate  of  two  years  ; he  succeeded  Henry  Ware,  Jr., 
whose  life  was  a powerful  influence.  Ware  had  been  ten 
years  in  training  this  congregation  up  to  his  own  ideal  of 
religious  culture  and  devotional  living.  He  had  positive 
views  and  a positive  faith.  Emerson  was  more  uncertain 
and  speculative. 

He  appeared  as  a literary  recluse  in  the  sleepy  town  of 
Concord,  and  finally  established  himself  in  the  sleepiest  part 
of  the  town,  just  on  the  borders  of  the  green  Walden  woods. 
His  house  is  partly  hidden  with  dark  pines.  It  is  a lovely 
spot  in  summer,  but  it  is  somewhat  dreary  at  other  seasons, 
with  the  wind  always  moaning  through  the  trees.  Some  of 
the  trees  that  surround  his  mansion  were  planted  by  Haw- 
thorne and  Thoreau. 

Emerson,”  says  Alcott,  his  speculative  neighbor,  likes 
plain  people,  plain  ways,  plain  clothes ; shuns  egotists ; loves 
solitude,  and  knows  how  to  use  it.”  He  found  the  old  Con- 
cord people  sufficiently  simple  in  their  tastes  and  habits,  and 
it  is  said  that  he  always  had  a kind  greeting  for  the  farmers 
he  used  to  meet  in  his  philosophical  walks  in  Walden 
woods. 

Emerson  wrote  a poem  soon  after  this  self-exile  from  Bos- 
ton, which  will  serve  as  an  excellent  photograph  of  his  occu- 
pation in  retirement : — 

“ Good-by,  proud  world  ! I’m  going  home  ! 

Thou  art  not  my  friend,  and  I ’m  not  thine. 

Long  through  thy  weary  crowds  I roam  ; 


The  Concord  Authors. 


441 


A river-ark  on  the  ocean  brine, 

Long  I ’ve  been  tossed  like  the  driven  foam  ; 

But  now,  proud  world  ! I ’m  going  home. 

Good-by  to  Flattery’s  fawning  face ; 

To  Grandeur  with  his  wise  grimace  ; 

To  upstart  Wealth’s  averted  eye  ; 

To  supple  Office,  low  or  high  ; 

To  crowded  halls,  to  court  and  street ; 

To  frozen  hearts  and  hasting  feet ; 

To  those  who  go  and  those  who  come ; 

Good-by,  proud  world  ! I ’m  going  home. 

“I’m  going  to  my  own  hearth-stone, 

Bosomed  in  yon  green  hills  alone,  — 

A secret  nook  in  a pleasant  land. 

Whose  groves  the  frolic  fairies  planned  ; 

Where  arches  green,  the  livelong  day. 

Echo  the  blackbird’s  roundelay. 

And  vulgar  feet  have  never  trod,  — 

A spot  that  is  sacred  to  thought  and  God. 

“ O,  wffien  I am  safe  in  my  sylvan  home, 

I tread  on  the  pride  of  Greece  and  Rome ; 

And  when  I am  stretched  beneath  the  pines. 

When  the  evening  star  so  holy  shines, 

I laugh  at  the  lore  and  the  pride  of  man, 

At  the  sophist  schools,  and  the  learned  clan  ; 

For  what  are  they  all,  in  their  high  conceit. 

When  man  in  the  bush  with  God  may  meet  ?” 

Alcott  followed  Emerson’s  example  soon,  and  left  Boston 
society  to  live  in  the  rural  simplicity  becoming  a philosopher 
at  Concord.  He  was  a teacher  in  Boston.  The  description 
of  the  Plumfield  school  in  Miss  Louisa  Alcott’s  Little  Men  ” 
is  evidently  drawn  from  the  recollections  of  early  days. 
Alcott  was  a radical  antislavery  man  in  the  days  of  Boston’s 
most  stately  conservatism,  and  when  a poor  colored  girl  ap- 
plied for  admission  to  his  school,  he  followed  his  conviction 


442  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

of  duty,  and  admitted  her.  The  act  so  worthy  of  his  man- 
hood proved  fatal  to  the  school,  and  he  was  glad  to  seek  the 
cool  fringes  of  Walden  woods,  and  found  it  a relief  to  be  able 
to  say,  like  Emerson,  — 

‘ ‘ Good-by,  proud  world ! I ’m  going  home 

He  took  a roomy  house  near  Emerson,  built  the  fences 
around  it  himself,  and  began  the  life  of  a speculative  philoso- 
pher, of  the  transcendental  school  of  thought. 

Hawthorne  and  Chan- 
ning  widened  the  literary 
circle  of  Concord  lit- 
erary men,  the  former 
occupying  the  Old 
Manse  ” in  which  Emer- 
son wrote  '‘Nature,”  which 
stood  removed  from  the 
street,  and  near  the  old 
Concord  battle-ground, 
its  monuments,  relics,  and 
graves. 

Hawthorne  was  retiring 
and  reticent  to  an  unusual 
degree  even  for  a literary 
NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  nian.  Hc  found  the  Old 

Manse  full  of  antique  re- 
minders of  a departed  generation  ; portraits  of  New  England 
ministers  of  Cotton  Mather’s  days,  narrow  windows,  and  sus- 
picious shadows,  and  the  traditional  accompaniment  of  all 
these  faded  things,  the  moonlight-haunting  ghost. 

All  of  the  old  colonial  mansions  had  their  supposed 
ghosts  j but  Hawthorne’s  ghost,  like  his  house,  was  a trifle 
more  sombre  than  the  rest,  wandering  about,  and  chilling  the 
spirits  of  the  living  by  the  rustle  of  its  (black)  silk  gown. 


The  Concord  Authors. 


443 


Here  the  Boston  poets  used  to  visit,  — Longfellow,  Fields, 
and  the  whole  coterie  of  writers  now  passing  one  by  one  in 
solemn  procession  off  the  stage  of  literary  life.  Franklin 
Pierce  was  a guest.  He  was  Hawthorne’s  college-mate,  and 
through  his  life  his  most  intimate  friend. 

When  Franklin  Pierce  was  elected  President  he  offered 
Hawthorne  the  position  of  U.  S.  Consul  at  Liverpool. 


THE  OLD  MANSE. 


^^Will  the  man  who  holds  this  office  have  to  talk  much?” 
asked  Hawthorne  of  the  bearer  of  the  intelligence. 

No,”  was  the  answer. 

Thank  the  Lord,”  was  the  fervent  rejoinder.  His  char- 
acteristic always  discovered  itself  in  the  happiest  as  well  as 
the  saddest  moments  of  life. 

Hawthorne  did  not  die  in  Concord,  but  amid  the  New 
Hampshire  hills.  His  old  friend,  Franklin  Pierce,  visited  him 
in  his  last  sickness,  and  was  with  him  on  the  night  of  his 
death. 


444  Yoimg  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

He  was  buried  in  the  most  beautiful  time  of  the  year  near 
the  woods  and  streams  he  had  loved  so  well.  His  remains  were 
carried  through  the  blooming  orchards  of  Concord  and  laid 
down  to  an  eternal  rest  beneath  a group  of  pines  on  a hill- 
side overlooking  the  Concord  battle-field.  All  the  way  from 
the  village  church,”  says  James  T.  Fields,  ‘^the  birds  kept  up 
a perpetual  melody.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  the  air  was 
as  sweet  and  pleasant  as  though  death  had  never  entered  the 
world.”  Longfellow  was  there,  Lowell,  Emerson,  Alcott, 
Holmes,  Channing,  and  Agassiz.  Franklin  Pierce  was  true 
to  his  early  friend  to  the  last,  and  mingled  flowers  with  the 
earth  in  that  hillside  grave. 

We  recently  visited  the  site  of  Thoreau’s  hut  in  Walden 
woods.  A noble  cluster  of  pines  rises  on  a ridge  of  woodland 
near  it,  pines  that  the  axe  has  spared,  that  loom  up  like  a shad- 
owy cathedral,  in  which  the 
winds  of  the  seasons  make 
perpetual  music.  The  pond 
or  lake  is  below  it  margined 
with  bushes.  A simple  cross 
marks  the  spot  where  the 
poet-naturalist  lived,  and  on 
it  is  written,  ‘‘This  is  the 
site  of  Thoreau’s  Hut.” 

Thoreau  built  this  hut 
with  his  own  hands,  and  here 
lived  more  than  two  years. 
The  birds  became  his  com- 
panions ; the  wild  partridge 
displayed  her  brood  before 
his  door,  and  the  rabbits  burrowed  under  his  house,  and  were 
there  secure  from  the  hound  and  sportsman.  Even  the  wood- 
mice  came  to  know  him,  and  one  of  them  would  take  food 
from  his  hand.  It  was  here  that  his  most  famous  essays, 


thoreau’s  hut. 


The  Concord  Ant/ tors. 


445 


many  of  which  appeared  in  the  Atlantic,  were  written,  or 
had  their  origin. 

Thoreau,  in  his  essay  on  Brute  Neighbors,”  describes 
one  of  the  battles  between  the  black  ants  and  the  red  ants  that 
took  place  before  his  door.  He  treats  the  matter  in  true  his- 
torical style  as  though  it  was  an  event  as  great  as  the  Norman 
Conquest,  and  conveys  the  idea  that  he  looked  upon  the  issue 
with  as  much  interest  as  he  would  contemplate  one  of  the  old 
battles  of  human  ambition.  The  ant-hills  in  Walden  woods 
still  remain  much  the  same  as  when  that  remarkable  essay 
was  written.  It  seemed  to  me  like  securing  an  uncommonly 
choice  autograph  when  I found  them. 

In  his  essay  on  ‘‘  Economy,”  he  tells  us  how  he  lived  in 
the  woods  during  his  protracted  study  of  nature.  His  house 
cost  him  twenty-eight  dollars.  He  was  a vegetarian,  and  as 
he  raised  his  own  corn,  beans,  and  potatoes,  his  expenses  for 
food  amounted  to  about  one  dollar  a month.  His  books 
and  his  flute  were  his  companions,  though  his  literary  friends 
sometimes  visited  him  in  his  retreat.  The  Concord  farmers 
used  to  hear  the  notes  of  his  flute  in  the  still  summer  evenings. 
A beautiful  poem  entitled  ‘^Thoreau’s  Flute”  appeared  in 
print  soon  after  his  decease. 

Thoreau  was  a cynic  — the  same  iconoclast  in  Harvard  Col- 
lege as  in  Walden  woods.  He  held  that  habits  and  customs 
of  social  life  were  all  unnatural  and  wrong ; that  true  indepen- 
dence of  character  was  a lost  virtue  ; and  that  following  the 
customs  of  the  rich  made  slaves  of  the  poor.  The  remedy  for 
the  ills  of  society  was  a disregard  to  all  conventional  rules  : he 
himself  acted  on  this  theory  ; but  a world  of  Thoreaus  would 
be  a rather  dreary  place  in  which  to  live. 

Thoreau  died  of  consumption.  His  love  of  nature  was 
strong  to  the  last.  He  loved  to  look  out  of  the  window  in 
his  sickness.  He  awoke  one  morning,  frost  covered  the  win- 
dow pane  and  he  had  not  the  strength  to  scrape  it  off.  I 


446 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


cannot  now  even  look  out  of  doors, he  said  sadly,  and  the 
world  from  that  time  was  as  lost  to  him. 

The  surroundings  of  Concord  have  a peculiar  charm  in 
summer-time,  a rare  harmonious  blending  of  grassy  meadows, 
dreamy  marshes,  noble  woods  of  variegated  green,  and  limpid 
streams.  Emerson,  Channing,  and  Thoreau  have  all  pictured 
the  charms  of  the  Concord  River.  It  is  a subtile,  ill-defined 
charm,  and  one  which  requires  days  of  delicious  leisure  among 
these  calm  landscapes  to  appreciate. 

“ Beneath  low  hills  in  the  broad  interval, 

Through  which  at  will  our  Indian  rivulet 
Winds,  mindful  still  of  sannup  and  of  squaw. 

Whose  pipe  and  arrow  oft  the  plow  unburies. 

Here,  in  pine  houses  built  of  new-fallen  trees, 

Supplanters  of  the  tribe,  the  farmers  dw'ell.” 

Emerson. 


“ The  river  calmly  flows 
Through  shining  banks,  through  lonely  glen. 

Where  the  owl  shrieks,  though  ne’er  the  cheer  of  men 
Has  stirred  its  mute  repose  ; 

Still,  if  you  should  walk  there,  you  would  go  there  again.” 

Channing 

“ I sailed  up  a river  with  a pleasant  wind. 

New  lands,  new  people,  and  new  thoughts  to  find. 

Many  fair  reaches  and  headlands  appeared. 

And  many  dangers  were  there  to  be  feared ; 

“ But  when  I remember  where  I have  been. 

And  the  fair  landscapes  that  I have  seen. 

Thou  seemest  the  only  permanent  shore. 

The  cape  never  rounded  nor  wandered  o’er.” 

Thoreau. 


The  poetry  of  Thoreau  is  evasive  and  peculiar.  “ His 
poetry,”  says  Emerson,  “ might  be  bad  or  good ; he  no  doubt 


The  Concord  Authors, 


447 


wanted  a lyric  faculty  and  technical  skill,  but  he  had  no 
source  of  poetry  in  his  spiritual  perception.”  There  is  a 
pleasure  in  getting  at  the  quaint  meanings  of  many  of  his 
rhymes : — 

“ If,  with  fancy  unfurled, 

You  leave  your  abode. 

You  may  go  round  the  'wojdd 
By  the  old  Marlboi'ough  road, 

“ The  respectable  folks  — 

Where  dwell  they  ? 

They  whisper  in  the  oaks. 

And  they  sigh  in  the  hay.” 

Some  of  his  lines  are  as  mysterious  as  Emerson’s  Brahma  ” 
was  to  the  country  editor,  who  failing  to  find  any  meaning  in 
it  after  reading  it  in  the  usual  way,  began  at  the  last  line  and 
read  it  backwards,  and  thought  he  received  light.  ^ 

1 BRAHMA. 

If  the  red  slayer  thinks  he  slays. 

Or  if  the  slain  think  he  be  slain, 

They  know  not  well  the  subtile  ways 
I keep  and  pass  and  turn  again. 

Far  or  forgot  to  me  is  near, 

Shadow  and  sunlight  are  the  same, 

The  vanished  gods  to  me  appear, 

And  one  to  me  are  shame  and  fame. 

They  reckon  ill  who  leave  me  out. 

When  me  they  fly  I am  the  wings, 

I am  the  doubter  and  the  doubt. 

And  I the  hymn  the  Brahman  sings. 

The  strong  gods  pine  for  my  abode. 

And  pine  in  vain  the  sacred  seven ; 

But  thou,  meek  lover  of  the  good, 

Find  me,  and  turn  thy  back  on  heaven. 


448 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 


For  example : — 

“ Give  me  an  angel  for  a foe. 

Fix  now  the  place  and  time, 

And  straight  to  meet  him  I will  go, 

Above  the  starry  chime. 

“ And  with  our  clashing  bucklers’  clang 
The  heavenly  spheres  shall  ring, 

While  bright  the  northern  lights  shall  hang 
Beside  our  tourneying.” 

The  solitude  of  Thoreau’s  life  gave  him  a strong  sense  of 
his  own  personality  : — 

“ My  life  is  like  a stroll  upon  the  beach 
As  near  the  ocean's  edge  as  I can  go  ; 

My  tardy  steps  its  waves  sometimes  o’erreach ; 

Sometimes  I stay,  and  let  them  overflow. 

“ My  sole  employment ’t  is,  and  scrupulous  care. 

To  place  my  gains  beyond  the  reach  of  tides,  — 

Each  smoother  pebble,  and  each  shell  more  rare, 

Which  ocean  kindly  to  my  hand  confides." 

One  by  one  the  old  Concord  poets  and  romancers  have 
departed,  as  Thoreau  saw  Walden  woods  falling  around  him 
before  he  died.  The  axe  was  ever  busy  in  his  forests,  and 
death  has  been  as  busy  among  his  friends.  Thank  God  they 
cannot  cut  down  the  sky,”  he  once  said,  as  he  heard  of  the 
wood-choppers’  work.  The  skies  remain,  and  trees  sprout 
again,  while  even  genius  proves  a wandering  and  uncertain 
light,  and  fades  and  disappears. 

The  Concord  writers  have  been  proverbially  unsocial,  but 
there  appeared  among  them  in  the  best  days  of  their  literary 
efforts  a new  Corinne,  who  more  than  any  other  American 
woman  distinguished  herself  for  her  social  charms.  We 
refer  to  Margaret  Fuller,  Countess  Ossoli,  who  had  met 


The  Concord  Authors, 


449 


nearly  all  the  Concord  philosophers  and  poets  at  Brook 
Farm,  where  she  had  enchanted  other  dreamers  with  the 
peculiar  brilliancy  of  her 
own  dreams.  When 
she  came  to  Concord/’ 
says  Emerson,  she  was 
already  rich  with  friends, 
rich  in  experience,  rich 
in  culture.  She  was  well 
read  in  French,  Italian, 
and  German  literature.” 

She  entered  the  cold 
intellectual  atmosphere 
of  Concord  like  a nun, 
and  she  came  and  went 
like  a social  queen.  She 

1 ] ^ r 1 r MARGARET  FULLER  (COUNTESS  OSSOLl). 

had  a nature  formed  for 

friendship,  and  absorbed  the  feelings  and  affections  of  others, 
and  influenced  them  by  an  intense  personality  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  resist.  Emerson  says  that  she  wore  her 
circle  of  friends  like  a diamond  necklace.  They  were  so 
much  to  each  other  that  Margaret  seemed  to  represent  them 
all.  She  was  everywhere  a welcome  guest.  The  houses  of  her 
friends  in  town  and  country  were  all  open  to  her.  Her 
arrival  was  a holiday.” 

knew  her  ten  years,”  says  Emerson  (1836-1846), 
and  never  without  surprise  at  her  new  powers.”  She  be- 
came an  intimate  friend  of  Mrs.  Emerson  : she  flitted  like  a 
sunbeam  among  the  shadows  of  the  Old  Manse  after  Haw- 
thorne came  to  occupy  it,  and  was  a frequent  guest  at  Chan- 
ning’s.  ^^The  Concord  stage  coachman,”  says  Emerson, 
distinguished  her  by  his  respect,  and  the  chambermaid  was 
pretty  sure  to  confide  in  her  on  the  second  day  her  homely 
romance.” 


29 


450  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

Concord  River  and  Walden  woods  were  a delight  to  her 
at  this  most  happy  period  of  her  life.  She  was  a lover  of 
nature  as  well  as  of  art  and  sentiment ; and  these  variegated 
woods,  hills,  and  calm  waters  were  among  the  teachers  that 
formed  her  tastes,  and  enriched  her  mind  and  character. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  last  scenes  of  the  life  of  Hawthorne 
and  of  Thoreau.  The  going-out  of  life  of  few  people  has  been 
so  sad  and  tragic  as  that  of  this  brilliant  woman,  whose  tall 
monument  rises  over  a tenantless  grave  on  one  of  the  hill- 
slopes  in  Mount  Auburn. 

It  was  an  Italian  spring.  The  Apennines  had  put  their 
mantles  of  snow  aside,  and  fruit  was  swelling  among  the 
blossoms  on  the  Arno.  ‘^The  Italian  spring,”  said  Madame 
Ossoli,  is  a paradise.  Every  old  wall  and  ruin  puts  on  a 
festoon  or  garland,  and  the  heavens  stoop  daily  nearer,  till 
the  earth  is  folded  in  an  embrace  of  light.” 

But  her  heart  amid  these  scenes  turned  homeward,  and 
she  resolved  to  return  with  her  child.  Her  husband.  Count 
Ossoli,  was  to  accompany  her.  Her  last  days  in  Italy  were 
very  happy,  and  yet  the  joy  was  tinged  with  sadness,  as  of  a 
shadow  of  some  unseen  fate  into  which  life  was  entering. 
^^The  world  is  indeed  a sad  place,”  she  said,  ‘Respite  its 
sunshine,  buds,  and  crocuses.  But  I never  felt  as  happy  as 
now,  when  I always  find  the  glad  eyes  of  my  little  boy  to 
greet  me.  I find  the  tie  between  him  and  me  so  deep-rooted 
that  nothing  but  death  can  part  us.  Nothing  but  a child  can 
take  the  worst  bitterness  out  of  life.” 

She  sailed  from  Italy  at  this  happy  period  of  her  life,  and 
the  rest  is  well  known.  The  ship  was  wrecked  in  sight  of 
the  American  shore.  The  wreck  was  twelve  hours  in  break- 
ing up,  rocking  on  the  reef  off  Long  Island,  the  high  wind 
rushing  over  it  and  the  huge  waves  dashing  around  it.  For 
twelve  hours,  in  her  night-robes  and  with  dishevelled  hair, 
';liis  gifted  woman,  to  whom  the  shores  already  in  sight  prom- 


The  Concord  Authors. 


45r 


ised  so  much  if  she  could  but  reach  them,  sat  face  to  face 
with  death.  They  offered  to  attempt  to  rescue  her,  but  in 
a way  that  would  separate  her  from  her  husband  and  child. 
She  refused  each  offer  for  aid  that  involved  a separation. 
She  would  be  saved  with  them,  or  would  perish  with  them. 
At  length  a tremendous  wave  shattered  the  wreck,  and  the 
brave  woman  perished  with  her  husband  and  child,  true  to  the 
last  to  her  family  as  she  had  ever  been  true  to  her  friends. 

Old  Wright’s  Tavern,  a quaint  relic  of  Revolutionary  days, 
where  Pitcairn,  just  before  the  Concord  fight,  stirred  his 

brandy,  declaring  I hope  to  stir  the Yankee  blood  so 

before  night ! ” stands  on  the  Walden  side  of  Concord,  not 
far  from  Emerson’s,  and  is  a link  between  a generation  gone 
and  the  generation  now  passing  away.  Thoreau’s  birthplace 
is  seen  on  the  old  Virginia  road,  and  the  Old  Manse  retains 
its  quaintness,  and  strangers  run  out  from  Boston  to  visit  it 
on  delicious  summer  days,  and  there  dream  over  the  old 
dreams  of  the  vanished  novelist,  romancer,  and  enchanter. 

But  the  literary  summer  of  Concord  has  passed,  and  the 
song  birds  have  fled  before  the  dropping  leaves,  and  the 
association  of  Concord  River  and  Walden  woods  will  ere 
long  be  a romance.  Emerson  alone  survives  these  mysterious 
singers  of  other  days,  though  Alcott  still  talks  the  poetry  he 
does  not  write. 

When  Emerson  shall  have  followed  on  in  this  procession 
of  vanishing  lights.  Concord,  it  would  seem,  will  be  a place  of 
literary  memories,  like  the  English  lake  district  of  Cumberland 
and  Westmoreland  when  Wordsworth  was  gathered  to  the 
poets  in  Grasmere  church-yard,  and  the  rapid  Rotha  was 
left  to  sing  the  poets  instead  of  being  sung  by  the  poets  on 
its  shaded  banks.  But  though  the  singers  may  be  gone,  the 
poetry  of  nature  will  long  linger  on  the  quiet  banks  of  the 
Concord,  and  amid  the  breeze-haunted,  blossom-haunted 
shadows  of  Walden  woods. 


\ 


\ 


t 


The  air  is  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying, 

And  mournings  for  the  dead  ; 

The  heart  of  Rachel,  for  her  children  crying, 

Will  not  be  comforted  ! 

“ Let  us  be  patient ! These  severe  afflictions 
Not  from  the  ground  arise, 

But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 
Assume  this  dark  disguise. 

We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors ; 

Amid  these  earthly  damps 
What  seem  to  us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 
May  be  heaven’s  distant  lamps. 

There  is  no  Death!  What  seems  so  is  transition ; 

This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  a suburb  of  the  life  elysian. 

Whose  portal  we  call  Death.” 


Longfellow, 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


MOUNT  AUBURN. 

On  the  24th  of  September,  1831,  a large  concourse  of 
people  assembled  in  a deep,  picturesque  valley,  near  the 
Charles  River,  in  Old  Cambridge,  to  consecrate  a rural  cem- 
etery. The  leaves  were  just  beginning  to  change ; the  sky 
was  unclouded,  and  the  cool  air,  purified  by  the  showers  on 
the  preceding  night,  seemed  a broad  mirror  of  sunlight,  here 
and  there  rimmed  with  vermilion  hills  and  golden  woods. 
Out  of  the  valley  or  deep  glen  like  a finger  of  faith  rose 
Mount  Auburn,  jewelled  with  autumn  fringes. 

The  literary  men  of  a generation  gone  were  there.  Henry 
Ware,  Jr.,  John  Pierpont,  and  Charles  Sprague,  at  that  time 
the  poetic  lights  of  Boston,  all  contributed  to  the  exercises. 
Mr.  Pierpont’s  grand  original  hymn  was  taken  up  by  a 
thousand  voices  and  was  echoed  among  the  hills  on  the 
mellow,  breezeless  air  : — 

“ Decay  ! decay  ! ’t  is  stamped  on  all  ; 

All  bloom  in  flower  and  flesh  shall  fade ; 

Ye  whispering  trees,  when  ye  shall  fall. 

Be  our  long  sleep  beneath  your  shade  ! 

‘ ‘ Here  to  thy  bosom,  Mother  Earth, 

Take  back  in  peace  what  thou  hast  given, 

And  all  that  is  of  heavenly  birth, 

O God,  in  peace  recall  to  heaven.” 

A half  century  has  passed  away  since  that  bright,  calm 
September  day,  when  first  were  thrown  open  these  tranquil 


456  Young  Folks  History  of  Bosto7i. 

streets  and  shaded  avenues  of  Boston’s  city  of  the  dead. 
One  by  one  the  scholars,  jurists,  artists,  and  philanthropists, 
who  gathered  there,  have  returned  again  to  share  the  un- 
broken companionship  of  the  tomb.  As  the  visitor  threads 
the  winding  ways  of  the  hill  and  dale  he  is  everywhere  re- 
minded of  the  literary  and  philanthropic  lights  of  the  past, 
and  is  made  to  feel  how  early  falls  the  twilight  and  the 
evening  of  fame.  Here  rest  Bowditch^  Binney,  Appleton, 
Thayer,  Ashmun,  Whiting,  Buckingham,  Story,  and  Lawrence, 


OSSOLI  MEMORIAL. 


and  a long  generation  of  scholars  and  benefactors,  whose 
names  we  have  not  even  the  space  to  recall.  Here  sleeps 
Hannah  Adams,  a once  famous  historical  writer,  and  Frances 
Osgood,  an  admired  poetess  in  her  day,  whose  monument  is 
a broken  harp.  Here  is  seen  the  elaborate  monument  of 
Margaret  Fuller  (Countess  Ossoli), — By  birth,  a child  of 
New  England ; by  adoption,  a citizen  of  Rome  ; by  genius, 
belonging  to  the  world.” 


ENTRANCE  TO  MOUNT  AUBURN  CEMETERY. 


liBRiRY 
Of  iHf 

UNIVERSilY  Of  iLUI^UfS 


Gaspard  Sptirzheim, 


459 


We  enter  the  enclosure  through  a broad  granite  gateway,  the 
design  of  which  was  taken  from  an  ancient  Egyptian  temple. 
The  scene  which  meets  the  eye  in  summer  time  has  few 
equals  in  quiet  loveliness  and  harmony  of  beauty  in  New 
England.  An  immense  parterre,  some  130  acres  in  extent, 
now  shadowy  with  trees,  now  silvery  with  jetty  fountains, 
comes  into  view,  and  makes  one  feel  that  this  is  affection’s 
holy  ground. 

As  we  pass  up  Central  Avenue,  which  is  margined  with 
beds  of  rare  flowers  and  works  of  art,  we  first  come  to  the 
monument  of 

GASPARD  SPURZHEIM, 

whose  name  is  associated  with  Gall  in  the  early  discoveries  in 
phrenological  science.  He  came  to  this  country  from  Prussia 
to  lecture,  but  died  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Boston  in  1832. 


SPURZHEIM  MONUMENT. 


His  body  was  given  to  science,  and  his  heart  and  brain  may 
still  be  seen  in  Dr.  Warren’s  collections  of  specimens  of 
anatomy.  His  remains  were  among  the  first  interred  in  the 
cemetery.  \ 


46o  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

Turning  to  the  left  into  Chapel  Avenue,  the  steps  of  the 
visitor  are  next  arrested  by  the  celebrated  bronze  statue  of 

DR.  NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH, 

the  first  full-length  bronze  statue  ever  cast  in  this  country. 

We  never  pass  this  monument  without  recalling  an  inci- 
dent that  furnishes  a healthy  and  helpful  lesson  to  the  young. 
Dr.  Bowditch  was  remarkable  for  his  simplicity  and  moral 


BRONZE  STATUE  OF  DR.  NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH. 

energy  of  character,  and  he  rose  in  science  mainly  by  his 
own  efforts.  Once  in  youth,  being  very  fond  of  music,  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  some  music-loving  fellows  of  the 


Dr,  Nathaniel  Bowditch. 


461 


aimless  and  profitless  sort,  but  full  of  warm,  friendly  feeling, 
and  he  found  their  society  so  pleasing  that  he  seemed  likely 
to  follow  their  unthrifty  habits. 

At  length  the  conduct  of  some  of  his  companions  showed 
the  r.eal  danger  of  his  position.  He  resolved  to  abandon  his 
new  friends  at  once.  What  am  I doing?  ” he  said.  For- 
getting my  studies  in  order  to  be  with  those  whose  only 


THE  CHAPEL. 


recommendation  is  that  they  love  music.  I shall  fall  into 
their  habits  if  I continue.  I will  do  so  no  longer.”  It  was 
a turning  point  in  life.  His  abandoned  fiddle  was  always 
kept,  and  is  still  owned  by  one  of  his  family. 

His  last  days  were  serene  and  happy,  and  were  passed  in 
the  companionship  of  books  and  children.  Looking  back 
on  a well-employed  youth,  he  once  said,  Every  morning 
when  I awoke  and  saw  the  sun  I thanked  God  that  he  had 
placed  me  in  this  beautiful  world.” 


462  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

Passing  the  grave  of  Dr.  Daniel  Sharp,  of  blessed  memory, 
we  come  to  the  Lawrence  monument,  one  of  the  most  lofty 
and  beautiful  in  the  grounds.  The  name  of 

AMOS  LAWRENCE, 

like  that  of  Bowditch,  has  its  lessons.  He  was  a poor  boy, 
but  had  the  strong  moral  purpose  that  compels  success.  I 
spent  my  first  Sunday  in  the  city  at  church,”  he  once  said. 


THE  STORY  STATUE. 


''  I determined  to  begin  life  just  right.”  Out  of  that  church, 
which  he  entered  a poor  country  lad,  he  was  carried  at  last 
amid  the  tears  of  the  city  and  brought  here  to  fill  a bene- 
factor’s grave. 


The  Sphinx, 


463 


We  now  come  to  the  chapel,  which  contains  the  fine 
statues  of  Joseph  Story,  John  Winthrop,  John  Adams,  and 
James  Otis.  It  is  lighted  by  a beautiful  oriel  window  in 
front,  where  cherubs  brighten  in  the  sunlight  and  lose  half 
their  beauty  in  the  shadow.  It  is  always  open  to  visitors. 

Near  the  chapel  has  recently  been  erected  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  works  of  art  in  Boston’s  cemeteries,  an 
Egyptian  monumental  statue  of  colossal  size,  called 

THE  SPHINX. 

It  is  designed  to  commemorate  the  conservation  of  the 
American  Republic,  the  destruction  of  Slavery,  and  the 
heroes  who  fell  in  the  Union  war.  It  was  cut  from  a single 
block  of  granite.  It  was  executed  by  Martin  Milmore,  who 
designed  the  Soldiers’  Monument  in  Boston,  as  well  as  the 
famous  bust  of  Sumner,  and  many  local  works  of  art. 

We  might  branch  off  from  the  central  route  to  the  tower, 
and  visit  the  monuments  of  Lucius  Bolles,  of  saintly  memory  ; 
of  Ballou,  who  had  many  virtues  and  many  friends  ; or  Cleve- 
land of  Revolutionary  fame.  But  proceeding  to  the  hill  and 
tower  we  pass  the  plain  tomb  of  Rufus  Choate,  standing  like 
a rock  on  the  steep  hillside,  buried  in  cool  shadows.  At  a 
little  distance  from  the  way,  in  a lot  margined  with  evergreen, 
is  the  grave  of  “ Fanny  Fern.”  It  is  marked  by  a beautiful 
cross  surrounded  with  delicately  wrought  fern  leaves  in  pure 
marble.  Her  father.  Deacon  Nathaniel  Willis,  and  her 
brother,  N.  P.  Willis,  the  poet,  sleep  in  another  part  of  the 
cemetery. 

We  now  come  to  the  base  of  Mount  Auburn,  and  in  its 
circle  repose  the  remains  of  Charles  Sumner,  Louis  Agassiz, 
Edward  Everett,  and  Noah  Webster,  the  lexicographer.  In 
fact,  the  whole  base  is  circled  with  places  that  strangers  love 
to  visit,  from  the  associations  of  bright  and  precious  mem- 


464  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 

ories,  and  no  spot  is  now  so  much  inquired  after  as  the  grave 
of 


CHARLES  SUMNER. 

It  is  on  Arethusa  Path,  near  Walnut  Avenue,  at  the  foot  of 
the  tower.  The  lot  has  no  fence,  no  margin  of  flowers  or 
evergreens,  and  no  memorial  stones,  except  a row  of  small 
slabs  of  white  marble,  just  rising  out  of  the  ground,  and  bear- 
ing the  names  and  dates  of  the  Sumner  family  who  are 
buried  there.  A tall  gnarled  oak  stretches  one  broad  arm 
above  it,  which  we  always  associate  with  one  of  the  last 
remarks  of  the  statesman.  A great  man,”  said  Mr.  Sumner, 
at  a last  interview  with  a friend,  when  under  the  shadow  of 
defeat,  is  taught  the  uses  of  adversity,  and  as  the  oak-tree's 
roots  are  strengthened  by  its  shadow.,  so  all  defeats  ^n  a good 
cause  are  but  resting-places  on  the  road  to  victory  at  last.’’ 

We  well  remember  the  mild  March  day  when  at  sunset, 
amid  the  tolling  bells  of  all  the  surrounding  towns,  the  great 
funeral  procession  wound  along  the  avenues,  and,  to  the 
music  of  trombones,  and  to  the  singing  of  Luther’s  majestic 
choral,  his  body  was  lowered  into  a grave  of  flowers.  The 
terraced  hillside  was  full  of  people.  Tears  flowed  on  all 
cheeks,  and  the  mourning  was  sincere.  Flowers  from  South- 
ern soil  were  piled  upon  the  coffin  ; in  the  gathering  shadows 
the  sexton  did  his  work,  and  an  immense  cross  of  calla  lilies 
was  set  at  the  head  of  the  new-made  grave.  That  grave  has 
never  wanted  for  floral  tributes.  Though  the  humblest  it  is 
the  most  often  visited  grave  of  all. 

The  grave  of 

LOUIS  AGASSIZ 

is  in  the  long  procession  of  illustrious  sleepers  that  encircles 
the  dells  below  the  tower.  A red  stone  cross,  mantled  with 
vines,  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  lot,  a fit  emblem  of  the 


CHARLES  SUMNER’S  SARCOPHAGUS. 


M 


v\V' 


H 


Louis  Agassiz. 


467 


great  naturalist’s  faith.  The  monument  of  Agassiz  is  striking 
for  its  appropriateness  and  simplicity.  It  is  a granite  boulder 


LOUIS  AGASSIZ. 


rising  as  though  naturally  out  of  the  grave,  and  bears  on  one 
of  its  sides  simply 

Jean  Louis  Rodolphe  Agassiz. 

Born  at  Motier,  Switzerland, 

May  28th,  1807;  died  at  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.,  Dec.  14,  1873. 

The  funeral  of  Agassiz  took  place  on  a mild  afternoon  on 
the  1 8th  of  December,  — a day  out  of  season,  as  mellow 


468  Young  Folks  History  of  Bostoji. 

as  the  changing  days  of  winter  to  spring,  or  September  to 
the  coolnes.;  of  fall.  Like  his  great  teacher,  Cuvier,  he  had 
requested  that  he  might  be  buried  in  the  most  simple  pos- 
sible manner.  The  request  was  in  the  main  regarded,  but 
his  friends  resolved  to  bury  him  in  flowers.  The  coffin,  over 


THE  AGASSIZ  BOULDER. 


which  Cherubini’s  sweet  requiem  was  sung  in  the  college 
chapel,  seemed  an  immense  floral  offering ; the  lot  where 
the  grave  was  made  was  carpeted  with  evergreen ; the  earth 
thrown  up  by  the  sexton  was  hidden  by  ivy,  japonicas, 
azalias,  carnations  ; the  grave  itself  was  wholly  lined  with 


Pierpoiit. 


469 


green  boughs  and  creamy  flowers,  and  the  stone  cross  held 
aloft  in  the  wintry  silence  the  greenest  of  ivy  and  the  whitest 
of  blooms. 

The  scene  was  in  harmony  with  the  great  naturalist’s 
character, — the  cross,  the  floral  offerings.  Flowers  were  to 
him  God’s  alphabet,  and  the  Christian  world  had  looked  to 
him  as  the  defender  of  their  faith  against  materialism.  Agassiz 
never  forgot  the  religious  instruction  he  had  received  from 
his  pious  parents  in  the  Alp-walled  Oberland  and  the  beau- 
tiful Pays  de  Vaud.  These  are  the  thoughts  of  God,”  he 
once  said  of  mountains.  Nature  to  him  was  God’s  thoughts 
in  the  past. 

At  the  foot  of  the  tower,  on  a green  slope  overlooking  the 
Charles  River  and  Roxbury  ” fields,  rises  a plain  monu- 
ment, on  one  side  of  which  is  inscribed,  — 

POET. 

PATRIOT. 

PREACHER. 

PHILOSOPHER. 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

PIERPONT.  ^ 

It  marks  the  resting-place  of  the  venerable  author  of 
The  Airs  of  Palestine,”  Napoleon  at  Rest,”  ^^The  Pilgrim 
Fathers,”  and  Passing  Away.”  Hollis  Street  Church,  where 
he  preached  for  many  years,  is  seen  in  the  far  distance  from 
the  beautiful  spot. 

Pierpont  in  selecting  the  lot  wrote  a poem  entitled  My 
Grave,”  in  vyhich  he  thus  pictures  the  resting-place  : — 

“My  grave  ! I ’ve  marked  thee  on  the  sunny  slope. 

The  warm  dry  slope  of  Auburn’s  wood-crowned  hill, 

That  overlooks  the  Charles  and  Roxbury’s  fields. 

That  lie  beyond  it,  as  lay  Canaan’s  green 
And  smiling  landscape  beyond  Jordan’s  flood. 

As  seen  by  Moses. 


470 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 


Standing  by  thy  side 
I see  the  distant  city’s  domes  and  spires. 

There  stands  the  church  within  whose  lofty  walls 
My  voice  for  truth  and  righteousness  and  God  — 

But  all  too  feebly  — has  been  lifted  up 

For  more  than  twenty  years,  but  now  shall  soon 

Be  lifted  up  no  more.” 

The  monument  of  Anson  Burlingame  may  be  seen  near 
the  fountain  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  — a beautiful  marble 
block,  covered  on  the  top  by  an  immense  bundle  of  wheat,  — 
a not  inappropriate  emblem  of  a fruitful  life. 


THE  TOWER 


Ascending  the  stone  tower,  which  rises  some  sixty  feet 
from  the  top  of  Mount  Auburn,  we  obtain  an  extended  view 


Forest  Hills  Cemetery. 


471 


of  the  environs  of  Boston,  — a scene  of  enchantment  on  a 
clear  day  in  summer  or  early  fall.  Below  lies  the  city  of  the 
dead  ; just  beyond  is  Elmwood,  the  residence  of  James  Rus- 
sell Lowell,  with  its  green  acres  of  grand  old  trees  ; on  one 
side  runs  the  placid  Charles,  like  a picture  of  beauty  ; on  the 
other  are  hills,  woods, 
spires,  and  towns,  and 
white  lines  of  houses, 
like  outstretched  arms 
joining  one  town  to 
another ; while  in  the 
distance  rise  the  three 
hills  and  the  brick  city 
of  Boston,  the  gilded 
dome  of  the  State 
House  glimmering  in 
the  sun. 

Among  the  new 
graves  that  the  visitor 
should  see  are  those  of 
Charlotte  Cushman  and  James  T.  Fields.  The  former,  which 
is  near  the  tower,  is  marked  by  a noble  monolith. 

The  stranger,  on  leaving  the  enclosure,  may  like  to  visit 
the  grave  of  Jared  Sparks,  which  is  on  Garden  Avenue  near 
the  bell  and  the  well-house.  It  is  among  the  last  objects 
usually  visited,  from  its  nearness  to  the  gate.  Passing  out  of 
the  enclosure,  Auburn,  Sweet  Auburn  ” fades  like  a vision, 
but  no  one  can  fully  understand  or  appreciate  the  Christian 
culture  of  Boston  until  he  has  exchanged  the  scenes  of  her 
activities  for  a thoughtful  walk  in  the  city  of  the  dead. 

FOREST  HILLS  CEMETERY. 

As  beautiful  as  Mount  Auburn,  though  not  as  historic,  is 
“ Forest  Hills.”  The  entrance  to  this  blooming  park  that 


JARED  SPARKS. 


472  Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 

hides  the  dead  is  through  a gateway  which  is  most  elegant 
and  impressive.  In  golden  letters  on  the  arch  above  it  are 
the  words  : I am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life.”  As  one 
passes  the  gate  he  seems  in  a vast  garden  of  flowers  and 
statuary.  Here  are  pleasant  sheets  of  water,  rocky  emi- 
nences, cool  clusters  of  trees.  General  Joseph  Warren,  who 
fell  at  Bunker  Hill,  is  buried  here,  on  the  summit  of  a hill 
called  Mount  Warren.  The  receiving  tomb  here  is  the 
largest,  or  one  of  the  largest,  in  the  country.  Its  portico  is 
massive  and  imposing.  Within  are  two  hundred  and  eight 
catacombs. 

At  one  side  of  this  cemetery  is  the  Strangers’  Burying- 
Ground,  or  ground  of  single  graves,  called  the  Field  of 
Manoah. 

And  here,  at  the  Strangers’  Burying- Ground,  we  will  take 
leave  of  the  reader,  who  has  followed  us  in  these  pages 
through  the  events  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years. 

THE  FIELD  OF  MANOAH. 

I see  afar  the  sun’s  red  lustres,  burning 
On  skeletons  of  woods, 

And  hear  the  lone  bird  haplessly  returning 
To  wintry  solitudes. 

Around  me  stand  white  monuments  in  clusters, 

An  open  space  before. 

Whose  tombs  reflect  few  monumental  lustres,  — 

The  sad  Field  of  Manoah.^ 

It  is  the  field  in  which  the  stranger  slumbers, 

Where  ferns  untrod  are  found  ; 

Yet  many  a grave,  without  a history,  numbers 
That  unfrequented  ground. 

1 Judges  xvi.  31. 


“ Manoah  ” — rest. 


The  Field  of  Manoah. 


473 


Amid  the  graves  one  lone  shaft  there  arises  — 

I seek  the  spot  alone  — 

A name,  familiar,  memory  surprises 
Upon  the  tapering  stone. 

’T  is  Owen  Marlowe.  This  is  all  the  history 
That  on  the  shaft  appears  ; 

All  else  is  vanished  into  endless  mystery 
And  unfamiliar  years,  — 

Save  that  his  genius  many  throngs  delighted, 

And  won  its  meed  of  fame, 

And  love  his  kindly  sympathies  requited, 

And  chiselled  here  his  name. 

A few  brief  years  he  spoke  to  throngs  applauding 
Before  the  footlights’  blaze, 

And  read  as  long  the  chronicles  recording 
His  triumphs  and  his  praise. 

And,  far  from  scenes  where  life’s  young  dream  had  perished, 
And  happy  days  had  flown, 

And  from  the  kindred  that  his  heart  had  cherished, 

He  died,  and  died  alone. 

And  here  he  sleeps,  where  balmy  June’s  returning 
Touches  with  green  his  bed, 

And  bright  years  pass,  with  golden  harvests  burning. 
Unheeded  by  the  dead. 

Like  her  whose  life  with  long  applause  was  sated, 

Who  was  the  world’s  glad  guest, 

But  finds  a grave  in  Auburn  isolated, 

The  actor  went  to  rest. 

Beside  this  grave  the  other  graves  seem  lonely  ; 

Yet  all  these  graves  are  lone, 

Removed  from  kindred,  and  surrounded  only 
By  dust  of  ihe  unknown. 


474 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 


Sad  are  the  homes  whose  hearths  are  half  deserted, 

Or,  from  the  fireside’s  blaze 

The  feet  of  loved  ones,  by  the  world  perverted, 

Take  solitary  ways. 

But  sadder  far  than  partings  made  by  trial. 

By  distance  or  the  wave, 

Is  that  lost  hope,  that  remediless  denial 
Of  kinship  in  the  grave. 

Yet  many  here  their  roof- tree  left  for  others, 

Their  hearth  and  lattice  vine, 

To  earn  some  easier  life  for  toil-worn  mothers. 

By  Yarrow  or  the  Rhine. 

And  some  are  gathered  in  this  spot  retired. 

Where  deeds  are  fragrant  yet, 

Who  in  death’s  silent  chamber,  faith  inspired, 

The  waiting  angels  met ; 

Who  walked  alone  the  city’s  thronging  highway, 

Like  the  celestial  road. 

And  sought  in  other  lives,  in  mart  and  by-way. 

The  brotherhood  of  God. 

Here  piteous  hands  that  duty  led  from  pleasure 
Laid  them  beneath  the  blooms. 

But  the  Escurial  holds  no  nobler  treasure 
In  all  its  golden  tombs. 

Gone  to  the  city  of  unshaded  splendor, 

Gone  from  life’s  harvest  field. 

They  gave  the  world  the  best  their  hearts  could  render, 
The  best  that  life  can  yield. 

The  twilight  near,  the  cool  winds  o’er  me  stealing. 

The  city’s  spires  before, 

I leave  to-night,  with  sweet  and  chastened  feeling, 

The  lone  Field  of  Manoah. 


INDEX 


Adams,  Samuel,  206 ; at  Lexington  on 
the  morning  of  the  fight,  226. 

Agassiz,  Louis,  grave  of,  464  ; monument, 
467,  468. 

Agassiz  Museum,  353. 

Alcott,  A.  Bronson,  441;  in  Concord,  442. 

Aldrich,  T.  B.,  409,  410. 

Allston,  Washington,  his  personal  charac- 
ter, 304 ; intimate  with  Washington 
Irving,  305  ; buried  by  torchlight,  304; 
a story  of,  339  ; poem  by,  29. 

American  Revolution  begun,  222. 

Ancestors,  our,  the  monuments  to,  37. 

Andrew,  Governor,  responds  to  Presi- 
dent’s call  for  troops,  317;  address  to 
Legislature  in  1864,  318, 

Andros  hated  by  Boston  people,  146. 

Antislavery  struggle,  the,  309;  meetings 
in  Faneuil  Hall,  313,  314  : societies,  314. 

Anville’s,  Admiral  d’,  fleet  destroyed,  190. 

Arbella,  the,  why  so  named,  48  ; voyage 
of,  49  ; reaches  Salem  harbor,  50 ; in 
Boston  harbor,  52. 

Argyle,  Duke  of,  married  in  the  Frank- 
land  House,  199. 

Arlington,  353  ; Arlington  Heights,  349. 

Arlington  Street  Church,  240. 

Arms  sold  to  the  Indians  by  Thomas  Mor- 
ton at  Merry-Mount,  67. 

“Art,”  poem  by  Charles  Sprague,  387. 

Art  Square  and  buildings  near,  338. 

Aspinet,  first  enemy  of  the  Pilgrims,  75  ; 
restores  a lost  boy,  79. 


Baltimore  regiment  at  Bunker  Hill  cen- 
tennial, 335,  336. 

Bates,  Joshua,  founder  of  the  Public  Li- 
brary, 324. 

Beaches  near  Boston,  356. 

Bells  of  Christ  Church,  239. 

“ Belshazzar’s  Feast,”  Allston’s,  305. 

Bjarne,  son  of  Heriulf,  voyage  and  discov- 
eries of,  360. 

Blackstone,  William,  sole  inhabitant  of 
Boston,  39  ; invited  Winslow  and  his 
friends  to  Boston,  40 ; removed  to  Re- 
hoboth,  43  ; married  late  in  life,  43. 

Blue  Hills  at  Milton,  349. 

Boston  founded  by  gentlemen,  31 ; growth 
of,  65,  85 ; invested  by  the  Provincials, 
257 ; assault  planned,  258 ; bombard- 
ment of,  261  ; evacuated  by  the  British, 
262;  occupied  by  Washington,  266; 


becomes  a city  in  1822,  293  ; to-day, 
323  ; its  territory  and  population,  323  ; 
valuation,  324 ; schools  and  churches, 
324;  Public  Library,  324  ; Public  Latin 
School,  375. 

Boston  Bay,  354. 

Boston  Common  a cow-pasture,  369. 

Boston,  England,  ancient  name  of,  16; 
description  of,  3 1 ; resembles  Rotter- 
dam, 31  ; proud  of  her  daughter,  31. 

Boston  massacre,  214. 

Boston  News-Letter,  tl>e  first  newspaper 
published  in  America,  177. 

Boston  poetry,  associations  of,  389. 

Boston  University,  385. 

Botolph,  or  Botulph,  derivation  of  the 
name,  16.  See  St.  Botolph. 

Bowditch,  Dr.  Nathaniel,  bronze  statue 
of,  460. 

Boy,  the  lost,  75. 

Boys’  books  in  1720,  178. 

Boys  of  Boston  and  General  Gage,  215. 

Bradford,  Gov.,  lines  “ To  Boston,”  390. 

Bradstreet,  Anne,  the  favorite  poet  of  the 
colony,  390. 

Breakfast  to  officers  of  French  fleet,  230. 

Brick  houses  built,  137. 

“ Bridge,  The,”  Longfellow’s  poem,  406. 

British  army  in  Boston  reinforced,  243. 

British  open  fire  on  Bunker  Hill,  244. 

Bromfield’s  Lane,  369. 

Bunker  Hill  fortified,  243  ; battle  of,  244; 
centennial  celebration  of  battle,  332. 

Bunker  Hill  Monument,  corner-stone  of 
laid  by  Lafayette,  293,  294 ; the  cele- 
bration, 294 ; Ray  Palmer’s  memories 
of  the  occasion,  296  ; the  grounds,  30J  ; 
description  of  the  monument,  303. 

Burnet,  Gov.,  cost  of  his  reception,  177. 

Burns,  Anthony,  arrest,  314;  surrender, 

317- 

Byles,  Mather,  first  pastor  of  Hollis  Street 
Church,  28^  ; a tory,  287  ; guards  him- 
self, 288  ; his  wit,  289  ; specimen  of  his 
poetry,  290. 


Cambridge  church-yard,  303  ; verse  from 
Holmes’s  poem  on,  305. 

Cambridge,  how  it  had  its  beginning,  62. 
Cape  Cod,  the  Keel  Cape,  Kialarness  of 
the  Northmen,  362. 

Cape  Cross,  or  Krossanes,  probably  Ply- 
mouth, or  Nantasket  Beach,  365. 


476 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston, 


Carwitham  view  of  Boston  about  1730, 

425. 

Castle  Island,  354. 

“Catechise,”  the,  372. 

Centennial  celebration  of  Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill,  332. 

Charles  11.  proclaimed  king  in  Boston, 
138. 

Charles  River  settlements  Arcadias,  43. 

Charlestown  settled  from  Salem,  40,  62. 

Charter  of  Charles  I.  revoked,  145;  a 
new  one  granted,  146. 

Chauncy  Street  Church,  393. 

Children  bewitched,  116. 

Choate,  Rufus,  tomb  of,  463. 

Christ  Church,  story  of  a visit  to,  234  ; 
oldest  church  in  Boston,  236. 

Chronicles  of  John  of  Tynemouth,  ex- 
tracts from,  20. 

“ Church,  the,  hath  no  place  left  to  fly 
into  but  the  wilderness,”  47. 

Chimes  of  Christ  Church,  234,  240. 

Coleridge’s  inkstand,  402. 

Common,  the,  a part  of  Blackstone’s 
farm,  43  ; gallows  on  the,  103. 

Conant,  Roger,  one  of  first  settlers  of 
Salem,  50. 

Concord  authors,  439  ; unsocial,  448. 

Concord,  Provincial  Congress  at,  219; 
battle  of,  221  ; literary  period  of,  be- 
gan, 440. 

Coote,  Richard,  the  second  royal  gover- 
nor, 174. 

Copp’s  Hiil  Burying-ground,  234,  239. 

Copp’s  Hill,  guns  from  the  battery  on,  set 
fire  to  Charlestown,  239. 

Corey  Hill,  Brookline,  349. 

Corey,  Martha,  hanged  as  a witch,  123. 

Cotton,  John,  Vicar  of  Boston,  32  ; flight 
to  New  England,  35,  48;  memorial 
chapel  to,  36  ; the  first  Boston  poet, 

389- 

Cushman,  Charlotte,  monument  to,  471. 

Dana,  Richard  H,,  391. 

Dante’s  coffin,  Longfellow  has  a fragment 
of,  402. 

Dark  day  of  1780,  289. 

Deer  Island  used  as  a place  of  confine- 
ment for  Indians,  131. 

Demons  put  to  flight  by  St.  Botolph,  23. 

Diaz,  Mrs.,  on  the  old-time  primary 
schools,  371. 

Dillaway,  Charles  K.,  master  of  the  Latin 
School,  379. 

“Dirge  of  Alaric  the  Visigoth,”  written 
by  Edward  Everett,  391. 

Dissenters  persecuted,  47  ; find  a place  of 
refuge,  66. 

Dixwell,  Epes  Sargent,  master  of  the 
Latin  School,  379. 

Dorchester,  first  settlers  at,  62. 

“Dorchester  Giant,  The,”  Holmes’s 
poem.  410. 

Dorchester  Heights  seized  by  the  British, 
257  ; fortified  by  the  Americans,  261 ; 


a storrn  prevents  a British  attack  on, 
262  ; view  from,  350. 

Dudley,  Deputy-Governor,  letter  to  the 
Countess  of  Lincoln,  62  ; angry  with 
Winthrop,  65. 

Dudley,  Joseph,  president  of  the  provi- 
sional government,  146;  an  unpopular 
governor,  174. 

Duel,  first  in  Boston,  128,  160. 

Dyer,  Mary,  story  of,  103. 


East  Indian  emancipation,  399. 

Easty,  Mary,  executed  as  a witch,  123. 

Eaton,  Mr.  Nathaniel,  first  master  of 
Harvard  College,  384. 

“ Eberhard,”  poem,  340. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  in  New  England, 
I go. 

Elm,  the  Old  or  Great,  on  the  Common, 
103,  124  ; Quaker  graves  near,  104  ; in- 
scription on  the  gate  of  the  enclosure, 
127  ; Indians  executed  on,  128. 

Elm,  the  Washington,  on  Cambridge 
Green,  257. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  439;  a literary 
recluse,  440;  his  poem,  “Brahma,” 
447  ; alone  survives  of  the  Concord  au- 
thors, 451. 

Emigrants,  dispersion  of  the,  62. 

Endicott,  John,  settles  at  Salem,  50;  gov- 
ernor, 92  ; cuts  red  cross  from  English 
flag,  95  ; opposition  to  Quakers,  95. 

England,  dark  times  in,  47. 

English  laws  of  trade  resisted,  142. 

Episcopal  Church,  origin  of  its  existence 
in  Boston,  145. 

Eric,  the  Red,  in  Greenland,  360. 

Estaing,  Count  d’,  at  Madam  Hancock’s 
reception,  230  ; entertains  Boston  ladies 
on  ship-board,  233. 

Esquimaux,  called  Skraellingar,  by  the 
Scandinavians,  362. 

Eutaw,  the  flag  of,  in  Boston  Music  Hall, 
336. 

Evangeline,  story  of,  related  to  Long- 
fellow by  Hawthorne,  405. 

Everett,  Edward,  and  others  restored 
chapel  at  St.  Botolph’s  Church,  36. 

Everett,  Edward,  391. 

“ Excelsior,”  Longfellow’s  poem,  in- 
spired by  a letter  from  Charles  Sum- 
ner, 404. 


Family,  the  lost,  71. 

Faneuil,  Andrew,  mansion  of,  193. 

Faneuil  Hall,  194. 

Faneuil,  Peter,  194. 

“ Fanny  Fern,”  grave  of,  463. 

Federal  Street  Church,  240. 

Feather  Store,  the  old,  137. 

Fields,  James  T.,  415;  his  first  poem, 
416;  an  example  to  youth,  417;  his 
poem,  “A  Protest,”  417;  his  grave, 
471. 


Index. 


477 


Field  of  Manoah,  or  Strangers’  Burying- 
ground  at  Forest  Hills  Cemetery,  472. 

Fire  in  Boston  in  1679,  137  ; the  great  one 
of  November,  1872,  328. 

First  Brick  Church,  395. 

First  Church,  the,  65,  240. 

Food  scarce  in  Boston,  258. 

“ Footsteps  of  Angels,”  origin  of  the 
poem,  403. 

Forest  Hills  Cemetery,  471. 

Fort  Independence,  354. 

Fort  Sumter,  fall  of,  317. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  his  birthplace,  177; 
story  of  his  early  struggle,  i8i  ; 390,  391. 

Frankland’s  Palace,  197. 

Fro§  Pond,  the,  127. 

Fugitive  Slave  Law,  314. 

Fuller,  Margaret  (Countess  Ossoli),  448; 
her  tragic  death,  450 ; monument  to,  456. 


Gallows  erected,  132. 

Gardner,  Francis,  Master  of  the  Latin 
School,  379. 

Garret,  Richard,  and  others  lost,  71. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  in  Baltimore, 
309;  mobbed  in  Boston,  310;  visit  to 
Whittier,  428. 

General  Court  to  be  held  in  Boston,  65; 
members  of  the,  elected  by  the  people, 
141  ; the  governing  power,  145. 

George  II.,  bells  of  Boston  tolled  at  his 
death,  206. 

George  III.,  the  sad  king,  266;  insanity 
of,  267  ; kindness  to  the  poor,  272;  fond 
of  children,  272  ; at  death-bed  of  his 
daughter,  275  ; blindness  of,  275  ; death, 
276  ; popularity,  276. 

Goodwin,  John,  children  of  bewitched, 
1 16. 

Gould,  Benj.  Apthorp,  Master  of  the  Latin 
School,  378. 

Governors,  the  democratic,  under  the 
charter,  169. 

Governors,  the  eleven  royal,  169. 

Governor’s  Island  once  called  Governor’s 
Garden,  354. 

Granary  Burying-ground,  160. 

Grapes  found  by  the  Northmen  in  Massa- 
chusetts, 361. 

Greenland,  Northmen  in,  360. 

Groton,  England,  birthplace  of  John 
Winthrop,  57. 

Gunpowder,  three  tons  sent  to  Washing- 
ton from  Rhode  Island,  258. 

Gyanough,  the  courteous  sachem,  76. 


Hale,  Sir  Thomas,  the  adventurer,  156. 

Hancock’s,  Dorothy,  reception,  230. 

Hancock,  John,  206;  marries  Dorothy 
Quincy,  225 ; at  Lexington  on  the 
morning  of  the  fight,  226  ; President  of 
the  Continental  Congress,  229;  Gov- 
ernor of  Massachusetts,  230,  293. 

Hancock,  Thomas,  206. 


“ Hanging  of  the  Crane,”  history  of  the 
poem,  404, 

Harvard  College,  384. 

Harvard,  John,  bequest  of,  385. 

Harvard  Memorial  Hall,  353. 

Haverhill,  Washington's  praise  of,  421. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  Longfellow’s  poem 
to,  437  ; 442  ; his  death  and  burial,  443, 
444. 

Hayslop,  Mr.,  the  pedagogue,  369. 

Hiawatha,  story  of,  related  to  Schoolcrall 
by  an  Onondaga  chief,  405. 

Hollis  Street  Church,  283  ; first  pastor, 
Mather  Byles,  287. 

Holmes  House,  Washington’s  first  head- 
quarters, 257;  “Old  Ironsides,”  writ 
ten  in,  257. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  410. 

Hooker,  Rev.  Thomas,  lines  to,  by  John 
Cotton,  389. 

Hopkins,  Matthew,  witch-finder  general, 
ixo;  his  methods  of  torture,  * x 11  ; his 
death,  112. 

House,  Wm.  Blackstone’s,  the  first  built 
in  Boston,  39. 

Houses  demolished  for  fuel,  258. 

Howe,  General,  at  Bunker  Hill,  244 ; 
evacuates  Boston,  262. 

Howe,  Mrs.  Julia  Ward,  414. 

Howells,  W.  D.,  409,  410, 

Hunnewell’s  Gardens,  349. 

Husking  Frolic,  an  old-time,  433. 

Hutchinson,  Anne,  banished,  87. 


Iceland  settled  by  Northmen,  360. 
Ikanho,  or  Ykanho,  ancient  name  of  Bos- 
ton, 16,  32. 

Increase  of  the  early  settlements,  66. 
Independence  declared,  293. 

Indian  a faithful,  72. 

Indians  friendly  to  the  settlements  on  the 
Charles  River,  43  ; kidnapped,  75 ; 
many  noted,  brought  to  Boston  for  ex- 
ecution, 128. 

Ingolf  and  Leif  in  Iceland,  360. 

Irving,  Washington,  friend  of  Allston’s, 

305- 


Jamaica  Plain,  350. 

Jethro,  story  of  old,  the  Indian  mission 
ary,  128. 

John  of  Tynemouth,  Rector  of  St.  Bo- 
tolph,  extracts  from  chronicles  of,  20. 

Johnson,  Isaac,  a gentleman  of  wealth, 
48;  selects  his  alDode  in  Boston,  50; 
death,  52  ; his  grave  the  first  in  King’s 
Chapel  Burying-ground,  52. 

Johnson,  Lady  Arbella,  the  story  of,  47  ; 
guest  of  John  Endicott,  50  ; her  death, 
51  : a stone  church  erected  on  her 
grave,  52. 

Jones,  Margaret,  the  first  victim  of  witch- 
craft in  New  England,  112. 

Jubilee,  musical,  of  1869,  327  ; 1872,  398. 


478 


Young  Folks  History  of  Boston. 


Kialarness — Keel  Cape  — Cape  Cod, 
362. 

King  George’s  War,  i8g. 

King,  Starr,  283. 

King’s  Chapel,  50 ; the  royal  governors 
worshipped  in,  177. 

King’s  Chapel  Burying-ground,  52,  57. 


Labrador,  the  old  Hella-land,  361. 

Lafayette  visits  Boston,  293  ; lays  the 
corner-stone  of  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment, 294, 

Lancaster,  a family  at,  murdered  by  In- 
dians, 131. 

Lantern  in  St.  Botolph’s  Church  went  out 
forever  when  Cotton  left  the  town,  35. 

Latimer,  George,  arrested  without  a war- 
rant as  a fugitive  slave,  313. 

Latin  School  building,  the  new,  385. 

Laud,  Archbishop,  imposed  the  ritual, 
32  ; his  iron  rule,  47. 

Lee,  General  Fitz  Hugh,  in  Boston  Music 
Hall,  336. 

Leif,  story  of,  356. 

Leif’s  Booths,  361. 

Leonard,  Marm,  the  schoolma’am,  371. 

Leverett,  Frederic  P.,  master  of  the  Latin 
School,  379. 

Leverett,  Governor  John,  137. 

Lewis,  minister,  hung  for  witchcraft,  112. 

Lexington,  battle  of,  220. 

Liberty,  spirit  of,  aroused,  214. 

Lincoln  Cathedral,  15. 

Lincolnshire  County,  England,  15. 

Lisbon,  earthquake  at,  198. 

Longfellow,  Henry  W.,  399  ; visited  Eu- 
rope, 401 ; his  study,  402  ; in  retire- 
ment, 422. 

Longfellow’s  poems,  origin  of  some  of, 
402  ; characteristics  of,  405. 

Lovell,  John,  master  of  the  Latin  School, 
377- 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  409;  Elmwood, 
the  home  of,  407,  471. 

Lynn,  353. 


“ Magnalia,”  stories  of  gross  supersti- 
tion in  Cotton  Mather’s,  115, 

Maine  given  to  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges, 
142  ; purchased  by  Massachusetts,  142. 

Malden,  the  hills  of,  349. 

“ Manoah,  Field  of,”  poem,  472. 

Marblehead,  355,  435. 

Massachusetts  Bay  Colony,  the  leaders  of 
came  from  Lincolnshire,  England,  15. 

Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology, 

385. 

Massachusetts  Sixth  Regiment  attacked 
in  Baltimore,  317. 

Mastodon  giganteus^  skeleton  of  in  the 
Warren  Museum,  342;  discovery  of 
the  skeleton,  344. 

Mather,  Cotton,  and  the  witchcraft  delu- 
sion, 1 1 6. 


Mather,  Cotton,  Increase,  and  Samuel, 
willow  at  tomb  of,  cut  from  tree  at 
Napoleon’s  grave,  239. 

Mattakees,  tishmg  huts  of  the,  76. 

Mayflower,  the,  one  of  Winthrop’s  fleet, 
49  ; arrives  in  Charlton  harbor,  61. 

May-pole  set  up  by  Thomas  Morton  and 
cut  down  by  Endicott,  67. 

Mechanics’  Charitable  Association,  393. 

Medford,  first  settlers  at,  62. 

Merrimack,  the,  Whittier’s  “ River  of 
Song,”  432. 

“Merry  Monarch,”  Charles  11.  called 
the,  145. 

Merry-Mount,  the  revellers  at,  67. 

Mickle,  Samuel,  the  cynic,  181. 

Milton  Lower  Mills,  350. 

Monument  grounds  at  Bunker  Hill,  302. 

Moore’s,  Tom,  waste-paper  basket  in 
Longfellow’s  study,  402. 

Morton,  Thomas,  the  rioter,  66. 

Mount  Auburn  Cemetery,  353,  455 ; en- 
trance, 457  ; the  chapel  at,  461,  463  ; 
the  sphinx,  463  ; the  tower,  470. 

Muddy  River  lands  granted  for  school 
purposes,  376, 

Mural  inscriptions,  393. 

Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  338. 


Nahant,  355, 

Napoleon  at  Rest,  poem  by  Pierpont,  284. 

Newburgh,  skeleton  of  mastodon  found 
at,  344. 

Newbury  and  Newburyport  in  Whittier’s 
verse,  435. 

Newfoundland  probably  discovered  by 
Leif,  361. 

New  Old  South  Church,  393. 

New  York  Seventh  Regiment  at  Centen- 
nial of  Bunker  Hill,  335. 

Nix’s  Mate,  story  of,  151. 

Nonconformity  could  not  be  overlooked, 
32. 

Non-representation  in  parliament  an  ar- 
gument of  the  magistrates,  142. 

Nook’s  Hill  fortified,  265. 

Normandy  subjected  by  the  Northmen, 
^ 359- 

Northmen,  expeditions  of  the,  359. 

North  Meeting-house,  signal  lanterns  in 
steeple,  219. 

Nova  Scotia  discovered  by  Leif,  361. 


“ O COUNTRY  fair,”  poem,  347. 

Old  Brick  Church,  the,  393. 

Old  Goody  Glover,  story  of,  116. 

Old  Manse,  the,  442,  443. 

Old  North  Church,  see  Christ  Church. 
Old  South  Church  stands  in  Winthrop’s 
garden,  58  ; the  church  of  the  people, 
189,  240. 

“Old  South  stands.  The,”  poem,  331. 
Oliver,  General  H.  K.,  on  the  early 
schools  of  Boston,  369. 


Index. 


479 


Ossoli,  Countess,  see  Margaret  Fuller. 
Otis’s,  Harrison  Gray,  anecdote  of  Mas- 
ter Lovell,  378. 

Otis,  James,  205, 


Palfrey,  Peter,  one  of  the  first  settlers 
of  Salem,  50. 

Palmer’s,  Rev.  Ray,' memories  of  Bunker 
Hill,  296. 

Parker,  Theodore,  314,  317. 

Peace  declared,  293. 

“ Peace  Jubilee”  of  1869,  327. 

People  independent  under  the  charter, 
141. 

Phillips,  Samuel,  the  duelist,  160. 

Phips,  Sir  William,  governor,  146;  the 
story  of  Sir  William  and  his  great  good 
fortune,  170. 

Pierpont,  John,  283;  poem  at  laying  cor- 
ner-stone of  Bunker  Hill  Monument, 
291  ; pastor  and  poet,  391  ; original 
hymn  at  dedication  of  Mount  Auburn, 
455  ; monument  of,  469. 

“Pilgrims,  The,”  motto  from  Longfellow, 

Pitcairn,  Major,  interred  in  Christ 
Church,  236. 

Pormort  (Portmorte),  Philemon,  the  first 
“ schulemaster  ” of  Boston,  376,  380. 

Prayer,  Thomas  Prince’s,  190. 

Prescott,  General,  leads  the  farmer  soldiers 
to  Charlestown,  243. 

President’s  call  on  Governor  Andrew  for 
militia,  317. 

Primer,  the  New  England,  372. 

Prospect  Hill  fortified,  257. 

“ Protest,  A,”  poem  by  James  T.  Fields, 

^ 417- 

Province  House,  the,  174. 

Provincial  Congress  organized,  216. 

Provincials,  the,  rally  at  Concord,  221. 

Provisional  government  for  the  colony, 
146. 

“Psalm  of  Life,”  anecdote  of  the  poem, 
403. 

Puritans,  Macaulay  on  the,  45. 

Putnam,  General,  at  Bunker  Hill,  247. 


Quaker  books  burned,  95. 

Quaker  graves  near  the  Old  Elm,  104. 
Quakers,  opposition  to,  95  ; whipped,  99  ; 
law  for  capital  punishment  of,  repealed, 
100. 

Quincy’s,  Dorothy,  wedding,  the* story  of, 
225;  reception  of  the  French  officers, 
230. 

Quincy,  President,  quotation  from,  37. 


Rain  brought  by  the  bones  of  St.  Bo- 
tolph,  19. 

Randolph,  Edward,  “ the  evil  genius  of 
New  England,”  142. 

Rawson’s  Lane,  now  Bromfield  Street,  155. 


Rawson,  Rebecca,  story  of,  155  ; lost  at 
Port  Royal,  Jamaica,  159. 

Red-coats  in  Boston,  216. 

Relic,  a gigantic,  341. 

“ Resignation,”  motto  from  Longfellow’s 
poem  on,  453. 

Revere’ s,  Paul,  ride,  219. 

Roxbury,  first  settlers  at,  62. 


Sts.  Adulph  and  Botolph,  educated  in 
Belgic  France,  20. 

St.  Adulph,  governs  church  of  Maestricht 
in  Belgium,  20  ; his  body  moved,  24. 

St.  Botolph’s  Church,  31  ; the  tower  a 
lighthouse,  32. 

St.  Botolph,  the  good  abbot,  16;  founder 
of  Old  Boston,  19;  his  bones  influence 
the  rain,  19;  incidents  in  life  of,  20; 
puts  demons  to  flight,  23  ; death,  23 ; 
miracles  performed  at  his  tomb,  24. 

St.  Edmond’s  Monastery,  Bury,  Eng- 
land, 19. 

St.  Ethelwold  transfers  the  bodies  of 
saints,  24. 

Salaries  paid  the  governors,  174. 

Salem,  first  settlers  in,  50  ; 355. 

Salem  Street,  ancient  and  modern,  234. 

Saltonstall,  Sir  Richard,  49. 

“ School  Committee,”  the,  373. 

Schoolhouse,  the  first,  380 ; called  the 
Centre,  and  afterwards  the  Latin,  383. 

School  Punishments,  370. 

Schools,  the  old  Boston,  369;  influence  of 
Boston,  385. 

Second  Church,  393. 

Shawmut,  old  name  of  Boston,  40. 

Shenhan,  John,  a poem,  161. 

Sickness  among  settlers  at  Salem  and 
Charlestow-n,  40. 

Slaves  and  slave-pens,  309. 

Soldiers’  and  Sailors’  Monument,  319; 
dedication  of,  337  ; description,  337. 

South  Carolina  regiment  at  Bunker  Hill 
centennial,  335,  336. 

Southern  regiments,  reception  of  at  the 
Bunker  Hill  centennial,  335. 

Sparks,  Jared,  grave  of,  471. 

Sphinx,  the,  at  Mount  Auburn,  463. 

Sprague,  Charles,  the  poet-banker,  392. 

Spring  Lane,  why  so  named,  58. 

Springs  of  pure  water,  39  ; led  to  the  set- 
tlement of  Boston,  40. 

Spurzheim,  Gaspard,  his  brain,  heart,  and 
skull  in  the  Warren  Museum,  342,  459. 

Stamp  Act,  passed  in  1765,  205  ; effect  of, 
209 ; repealed,  209. 

Standish,  Miles,  sent  to  arrest  Thomas 
Morton  at  Merry-Mount,  67. 

Steamers,  excursion,  354. 

Stories,  fireside,  151. 

Story  Statue,  the,  at  Mount  Auburn,  462. 

Stranger’s  Burying-ground,  472. 

Sturge,  Joseph,  the  reformer,  431. 

Suburbs  of  Boston,  349  ; gray  and  vener- 
able, 354. 


480 


Young  Folks'  History  of  Boston. 


Sumner,  Charles,  on  the  Fugitive  Slave 
law,  314;  grave  of,  464;  . his  sarcopha- 
gus, 465. 

Surriage,  Agnes,  the  tavern  maid  of  Mar- 
ibleiiead,  197. 


“ Tales  of  the  Wayside  Inn,”  how  sug- 
gested, 405. 

Tea,  tax  imposed  on,  213  ; destruction  of, 
216. 

“ Ten  Hills,”  Winthrop’s  farm,  72. 

Thanksgiving,  first  day  of,  61. 

Thompson,  Pishey,  his  “ History  and  An- 
tiquities of  Boston”  (England),  20. 

Thoreau,  Henry  D.,  444  ; friendship  with 
animals  and  birds,  444 ; a cynic,  445  ; 
his  death,  445  ; his  poems,  447. 

Thoreau’s  hut,  444. 

Thorwald,  story  of,  359,  362. 

Tileston’s,  Madame,  school,  371. 

“Tom  of  Lincoln,”  the  old  bell,  15. 

Tories,  effigies  of  hanged,  132. 

Treasures  sunken  in  the  Spanish  main,  173. 

Tremont  Street,  follows  the  windings  of 
William  Blackstone’s  cow,  43. 

Trimountain,  early  name  of  Boston,  40. 

Trinity  Church,  338, 

Troops,  British,  stationed  on  the  Com- 
mon, 214;  start  for  Concord,  220;  re- 
treat to  Boston,  222. 

Trowbridge,  J.  T.,  409,  410. 

“Two  Brothers,”  stones  marking  bounds 
of  Winthrop’s  and  Dudley’s  lands,  66. 


Vane,  Henry,  arrives  in  Boston,  85 ; a 
leader  in  England,  87  ; jealous  of  Crom- 
well, 87  ; executed,  88. 

Vassal  family,  tomb  and  tablet,  304  ; family 
mansion,  Longfellow’s  residence,  400. 
Virginia  regiment  at  Bunker  Hill  centen- 

«ial,335- 


Walden,  Lake,  439. 

Waltham,  river  excursions  from,  349. 

Wampanoags,  favorite  resort  of,  79. 

War,  the  civil,  begun,  317. 

Ware,  Henry,  Jr.,  393;  his  “Ursa  Ma- 
jor,” 394 ; his  antislavery  ideas,  398  : 
his  last  poem,  399. 

Warren,  Dr.  John  Collins,  341. 

Warren,  General  Joseph,  206;  sends  out 
Paul  Revere,  219  ; death  of,  248  ; statue 
of,  303  ; now  buried  at  Forest  Hills,303. 


Warren  Museum,  341. 

Washington,  George,  first  monument  and 
bust  of,  236  ; appointed  commander-in- 
chief, 253 ; arrival  at  Cambridge,  253  ; 
took  command  of  the  army,  257  ; head- 
quarters, 257  ; elected  president,  293  ; 
visits  Boston,  293. 

Washington  Street,  follows  the  windings 
of  William  Blackstone’s  cow,  43. 

Water  supply  of  Boston,  327. 

Watertow'n,  first  settlers  at,  62. 

“ We  are  One,”  poem  by  VV^ashington 
Allston,  29. 

Webster,  Daniel,  oration  of  at  Bunker 
Hill,  295,  300. 

Wellesley  College,  349. 

Whitefield,  George,  in  Boston,  193 ; tomb 
of  at  Newburyport,  435. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  421  ; his  love  of  liber- 
ty, 422  ; the  poet  of  old  Essex  County, 
423  ; energy  of  character,  424  ; his  boy- 
hood, 428 ; antislavery  odes,  429 ; his 
home,  430. 

Whittier’s  poetry,  associations  of,  421. 

Williams,  Roger,  comes  to  Boston,  88; 
banished  for  his  opinions,  92. 

Wilson,  John,  pastor  of  the  First  Church, 
65. 

Wineland,  362. 

Winslow,  Edward,  searches  for  a lost  boy, 
76. 

Winter  Hill  fortified,  257. 

Winthrop,  Henry,  drowned  at  Salem,  61. 

Winthrop,  John,  decides  to  leave  Eng- 
land, 47  ; carries  the  king’s  charter,  49  ; 
some  incidents  of  his  life,  57;  extracts 
from  his  journal,  6x ; fording  a stream, 
67;  visits  Plymouth,  68;  lost  for  one 
night,  72  ; death  of,  92. 

Winthrop  statue  in  Scollay  Square,  61. 

Witchcraft,  account  of  the  Salem,  109. 

Witches,  belief  in,  in  England  and  Scot- 
land, 109  ; methods  of  discovering,  1 10 ; 
in  the  Hebrew  nations,  124. 

Wollaston,  Captain,  settles  a company  at 
Mount  Wollaston,  now  Braintree,  66. 

Woodbridge,  Benjamin,  killed  in  a duel, 
160. 

“ Wreck  of  the  Hesperus,”  origin  of  the 
poem,  404. 

Wright’s  Tavern,  451. 

Ykanho,  St.  Botolph’s  monastery  at,  de- 
stroyed, 23. 


Cambridge  ; Printed  by  John  Wilson  & Son. 


if 


